


Just One Yesterday

by Justalittleobsessed



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Because of Reasons, Blood and Gore, Doctor! Merlin, F/M, Graphic Description, Immortal Merlin (Merlin), Merlin and Arthur are actual besties in this, Merlin is sad, My First Work in This Fandom, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Please like this because I seek validation, but it's not that bad, but that's okay cause he will get better, doughnuts, oof
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2020-07-30 01:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20088934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justalittleobsessed/pseuds/Justalittleobsessed
Summary: Merlin had waited a long, long, long time for the return of Arthur. Maybe even the knights or Gwen. What he wasn't prepared for was an ancient evil rising up to destroy the world. He certainly wasn't prepared for six new occupants in his house, who had no idea how to navigate the new world around them. But, he could handle it. After all, he was the most powerful being on the planet. How hard could it be?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my first fanfiction! I hope everyone enjoys it - I don't know how long it will be, but I promise more than ten chapters. If it wasn't obvious already, I used a Fall Out Boy song as my title, because I listened to them on repeat while I wrote this. Enjoy my broskis!

The landscape has changed over the years as he waited - forests filled with lush trees and ferns, the peaceful streams that sparkled in the sunlight, animals that prance gracefully through the long, open fields, disappearing into villages teeming with people and growing and expanding into bustling cities filled with bright, bright lights, cars honking at each other, attracting new business and goods that flew to the hustle like moths to a bright fire. He could no longer see the night sky like he used to - its vast expanse of stars and galaxies disappearing under the newer age of electricity. The sunrise was now filled with the morning traffic and it was much harder to find the time to see it’s beautiful colors. The best place to see the sunrise was at the lake, and for much of his life, it was too hard to appreciate the beauty at a place that made him feel so much sadness. The captivating pinks and purples, oranges and yellows, could not stem the pain that grew in his heart with each passing day. Only in the past few hundred years, has he been able to bear the lake and it’s sunrises and sunsets.

The waiting was the hardest part. The changes, while he missed his home dearly, were not as hard as waiting day by day by day for when he returned. At one point, the loneliness, that cavern in his stomach where happiness used to live consumed him. A few hundred years into existence ,when he hated the life that was given to him because _ screw destiny _ , he walked to the lake, watched the waves ripple for the longest time, and then walked straight into the water. Walked until it was over his head, suffocating him and finally giving him the peace he so desperately wanted. He succumbed to the darkness a few minutes later. That was the first in so many years that he had felt peace. But, then the next day came, and as the dew started to dry off the long grass and the sun rose into the sky, he awoke on the lakes’ shore, completely dry. He stayed _ very _ far away from the lake for a few hundred years after that. Enough where he came to accept his immortality. Kind of.

He was able to see many things in travels after that. He saw civilizations grow and prosper and he saw them wither and die. He saw wars across lands, fights for freedom and rights and religion that made the battles he had been in, the ones where his friends were right there beside him, laughing and enjoying the thrill of the fight seem small and insignificant in comparison. He was an army medic, a doctor, a historian, librarian, antique collector, among many other things in many other places. He went to school every once and awhile, because there were always things he could learn, and he was always trying to distract his mind and build up more knowledge for when Albion (or England as it was now called) needed him again. 

He hated being happy. It seemed like an odd thing to say, but then he got happy and lost people he loved. _ That _ will always be the hardest part of being immortal. No matter how many times he told himself to _ stop making friends, you’ll just lose them _ he needed the company. Needed to be happy again. Nobody could compare to the friends he made in Camelot, of course, but he did make friends. Had relationships. Then they would grow old and die, and he would watch them with his never aging body and wish to the gods above that he could join them in the afterlife. It would take him years to warm up to somebody again, and the cycle would repeat. Sometimes, he made himself look old, other times he grew his hair long or changed something about himself so that he was different from _ then _. Tried being happy as a new person. But often times he was just the sad boy, that was lost, alone, scared. The boy who was no boy at all, but a man that had lived for hundreds of years. A boy who was wise beyond his years, who had seen horrors, miracles, and everything in between. He was the odd man out wherever he went, and he was perfectly okay with that. Being happy really was hardest part; and the only people who could bring him the most pure and brightest smiles, that infectious happiness, were now sitting at the bottom of a lake, a peaceful slumber that has now lasted over a millennia.

A few hundred years ago, he decided to go back to the lake, and stay there permanently. He had claimed the land in Camelot days, right after his King had died. He passed the deed down to “relatives” over the years (it was himself of course; nobody was stealing that land from him) a new name every time. It went from Merlin Emrys to Bradley Johnson, to Mark Pickett, to Gavin Ferguson, hundreds of generations of new names, new identities. It was recently passed to Colin Morgan, and if you saw anybody today that new him, whether it be from work or volunteer or on the streets he was Colin Morgan. Not that the name really mattered. It was just a way to start over and put a different name to the same sad eyes that held so much depth, so much experience and memory. He has expanded his house a little bit through each guise, until he had a sizeable estate overlooking the lake. It was big enough room to fit a prat of a king, but of course he can expand his house whenever he wanted - magic made things like that easy to do. 

Colin Morgan was his newest identity, working as a doctor for the local clinic in town. He had only been working there a few years, but the area was familiar. After all, he had been living there for hundreds of years. Soon, it would be his birthday again. Not that he cared or even celebrated it anyway. Birthdays didn’t really mean much to you anymore when you’re almost 1,527 years old. He stopped caring about his age around the time the last of friends died. He stopped caring about a lot of things once they were all gone. He wishes, _ dear god he wishes _ , he could be happy again. It’s been so long since he’s genuinely felt that bubbling happiness that used to surround him in his Camelot days, even through his trials and hard times. Nobody could compare to the bonds he had and formed during his time in Camelot. He tried, _ really _, tried to recreate that happiness that he once felt, but it was different and didn’t seem right. There was always a hole in his stomach that was carved out and broken through years and years of pain and heartbreak. He was carrying a burden that no one man should ever have to carry.

He sees fragments of what he once was at every single turn. Parts of a different life full of adventure, of love and loss. He looks to his left and sees two people in the little cafe across the street, _ walking into Arthur’s chambers to see him and Gwen snuggling close to fire, both sleeping soundly. Him adding more wood to the fire, grabbing a blanket from their bed and wrapping it around them, Gwen waking up enough to give him a thank and then burying her head back into Arthur’s shoulder and smile on her face as she drifted off again, _ huddling close to each other in the warmth of the building, coffees clutched in between their hands and a look of love and total and utter comfort on their faces. Two boys, (well more like teens, but at his age, everyone was young) chasing each other through the streets, _ “How long have you been training to be a prat?” Said prat giving him a look of disbelief. “You can’t address me like that!” Giving him his signature smile in return. “Sorry. H-how long have you been training to be a prat, m’lord?”, _ weaving in and out of people and stores and cars parked on the side of the street, calling one another nonsense insults, but full fondness only a best friend could have (it is this makes him chuckle only because of the similarities of him and Arthur’s friendship). _ Gwen and Morgana walking through the lower town shopping for fabrics as they gossiped about the visiting royals, and the two maids who were caught making out in a closet near the kitchens. Waving to his friends as they walked past and complaining about the load of work that Arthur and Gaius had set upon him today, at which Morgana rolled her eyes and Gwen let out and exasperated sigh “Arthur needs to lay off you every once and awhile. You can never catch a break.” Himself smiling back at her, “Can’t have him doing that Gwen, he wouldn’t survive a day without me.” Morgana laughing at that statement and telling him exactly how right he was because “I’ve lived with him all my life and I don’t think he can even put a shirt on properly.” Hearing the bell signaling noon ring and scrambling off to find Arthur before he gets thrown in the stocks… _ much in the same of the two girls walking down the other side of the road, their hands full of shopping bags as one talked animatedly to the other, about the two new boys at school who were _ totally _ cute. _ Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, Leon, Arthur and him walking into the Prancing Pony to celebrate Arthur’s last night before his marriage to Gwen. Gwaine forcing him to have one drink “just for us, pleeeease”. Him rolling his eyes and obliging but, “Only one Gwaine, somebody has to be competent and able to work tomorrow morning.” Walking Arthur back to his chambers well after midnight because he was too drunk to do so himself and laughing in the morning when all his friends had extreme hangovers and giving them drafts courtesy of Gaius. _Not unlike the group of university kids walking into a bar, probably the first of a long night of drinking, and laughs. These little interactions reminded him so much of Camelot and the people that made it home for him that for a few moments, he felt as though he was back there.

He makes it back to his home fairly quickly for walking (of course, this could be because he may have used a tiny bit of magic to help him), the walk clearing his head as he listens to music through earbuds, new technology he’s decided should have been invented much sooner, as music is magic in itself. He could’ve used his car, but the weather has been pleasant lately, even with it being the cold winter month of February, plus the cold focused and sharpened his senses just a little bit. He breathes a sigh when he walks onto the grounds of his home, the area one of the very few places left that magic is still very active, a vein still pulsing in an almost nonexistent magic world. He takes off his black leather jacket, one similar to the one he wore when he was in Camelot, but much better quality, with the better stitching and a warmer lining. He ambles into his fairly large kitchen (he always _ did _enjoy cooking) and flicked his hand toward a cupboard by the large windows on the right-hand side of the kitchen that overlooked a large garden, growing things that should not be possible in this region, or this weather, but growing perfectly with a little bit of help from magic. A glass comes out and he fills it with water, sitting down at his counter, reminiscing about his times in Camelot and everything in between as he takes languid sips of the liquid, swirling the glass absentmindedly. 

Eventually, he stands from his spot perched at the counter and make his way over to the stove, taking out a pan. He throws on some Queen, and as he hums to _ Don’t Stop Me Now, _ he heats the pan with a glow of his eyes and cooks up some chicken with spices he recently picked up from his ever-growing garden outside, freshly picked, now whistling to _ Sugar We’re Going Down _ by Fall Out Boy from his “Rad Songs” playlist that Amanda, the receptionist at work had affectionately and jokingly renamed his playlist to. After the chicken had browned and the aromas of the herbs wafted throughout the kitchen air, he takes the chicken off the stove, throws it onto a plate and takes the plate and a container of salad he made the other day over to his oddly decorated dining room. 

The room itself is large, the wooden table in the center of the room masterly carved with the swirls from a tree that now would’ve been over 500 years old. The wall is decorated with paintings of the landscapes from places he visited and ones friends from his travels made for him. A seaside painting with the waves crashing over large rocks as a storm rolls in. The Swiss Alps painting in a masterful combination of colors and imagery. More than the paintings, pictures dating all the way back to the 1800’s frame the walls. There’s one of him smiling next to Mark Robbins, Gary Treavon, and little Alex Plicet from his time in the US Army, when he served during the Vietnam War. He was Dave Elrin then; an exceptional sharpshooter, earning him the nickname Viper for his quiet demeanor, but his easily scary way he was able to kill. Another sits to the right of that, this one just a few years old - Colin Morgan this time, his most recent guise, at an outing for the clinic, with Amanda Brooks hanging off his shoulder, a smile lighting up her face, Tyler Linter and Edward Smith laughing off to the right of the photo, with Sophia Harold sneaking up behind Ty and Eddie, two large water balloons in hand (that was a pretty funny experience, that is still often talked about around the clinic). He admires a vase he got in the 18th century, from a merchant ship he had used to travel to the Americas (a thank you from saving the captain from drowning after a particularly bad storm) as he chewed on the fairly good chicken, if he did say so himself. His gaze moved from the ornately decorated vase to a pendant, it’s red center jewel sparkling from the lights of the chandelier brightening up the room, to a helmet he had worn as a front-line army medic in WWI. But, even with the mismatched bits and pieces throughout the room, it all seems to come together, giving the room an appealing and homely quality to it.

Finishing his dinner, he moves out of the room, turning off the chandelier above, magically cleaning and putting away the dishes and cutlery. He walks past the library, a large room filled with thousands of books (no matter how long he lived, he would _ always always always _ love books), and into the rather modern living room-a stark contrast to the dining room. He puts on a kettle for tea in the kitchen, and settles on a rather comfy chair, one of the newest items in his house, because his other one had to be replaced. When the tea whistled, he poured it with a flash of gold and brought it over to himself, where he curled up on said chair and turned on the TV (another recent addition, because just like the chair, his other one died). 

He listened as the newscasters talked about nothing of importance. He remembered _ sitting and waiting and listening so nervously to the radio, as the news reported more bombs being dropped on London, as in the distance sirens went off, flashes of light and loud booms that would never reach or affect his land, but still shook the very Earth, and he felt a little of the magic that was weaved into the world die. The tears leaving his eyes as he went to help wounded-oh god his face is burned off and she’s missing her arm and all the screaming and the smell of death-seeing the damage and hurt brought on by this terrible war. People out in the streets in troves, no home and no family, whole towns and cities crumbled to the ground. Going home to listen as the radio spewed out casualty numbers, how they seemed to get higher every time he tuned in. _He rolled his eyes at the new that wasn’t actually new right now, and turned on Netflix, throwing on one of his favorite shows, Supernatural. Those boy’s lives are almost as fucked up as his. He laughs at that.

Finishing up his fourth episode of the night (he’s rewatching the show for the fifth time and “Yes, I know that’s a lot Amanda, but this show is amazing and I know you agree with me”), his tea now finished, he moved his way to the basement, walking up to the wooden door carved with protective runes. He muttered “tólýsednes se eorðweard” under his breath to release the magic guarding it. Only he was allowed into the basement, and if anybody looked to where the door was. All the would see was a wall, no door or odd symbols or glowing of lights from below the house. He didn't worry about it too much. Even if the glamour spell didn’t work he only ever got a few visitors and they were not of the magically inclined type, in fact, most were his friends from the clinic in which he practiced. The door opened with a woosh and the torches, because yes, he kept torches in the basement to get to close as a recreation to the halls of Camelot as he wanted, lit up the cold stone stairs to the bowels of the estate.

He descended down the stairs which opened into a large room that could almost rival the size of the Great Hall in Camelot. Passages veered off to the sides, filled with rooms upon rooms of magical artifacts, treasures, and everything in between that he had collected throughout his over 1,500 years of living. The center room though, held his most valued possessions. Swords that were wielded by his best friends displayed in cases with their cloaks neatly folded underneath them that ranked them as Knights of the Roundtable, of the Pendragon dynasty. His blue cloak made of fine stain, the dragon on one side, showing his rank, even for a brief time, as Camelot’s Court Sorcerer (and, if he was being honest, the first advisor to the King _ and _ Queen). Magic books lined the book shelves carved into the walls on the back of the room, as well as the shelves in front of them. Then, finally, a painting of Arthur and Gwen in all their regal glory, overlooking the center of the room, their crowns placed on display underneath. 

Beyond the large hall were rooms packed full of magic spell books of great power (ones that shouldn't under _ no circumstances _ be touched. This room was locked and he hoped he wouldn’t even have to use something in there), cursed artifacts, among every other magical item he could get his hands on. The underground chambers held much pain for him in their walls, loss and pain stabbing the hole in his stomach, in his heart. That being said, he was down here almost every night. Going back to memories of places once great city that had faded out and crumbled with time. He spent hours down here, looking among the objects. 

As he walked the halls, he could almost hear the laugh of the Knight nicknamed Strength, the one who always knew how to make him smile even on the darkest of days. _ “Pass the jug, huh?” the man turns around and punches another one of the bandits in the face, effectively knocking him out, as he takes a swig of the mead. “What do they call you then?” he asks. “Merlin.” He smiles. “Gwaine. A pleasure to meet you.” _

He could see the exasperated look of the Knight who was too brave for a world too cowardly, the one who sacrificed himself for his friends, who knew his secret and understood when no one else could. _ He ran as the griffin chased him through the trees. He fell. This was it, he was going to die. A yell, the griffin screams and rears his hind legs and a man jumps out to defend him. He fights it until his sword shatters. “Run, run!” They hide behind a long and watch as the griffin flies away. “You saved my life! I’m Merlin.” He stretches out his hand to shake the man’s. The man returns the handshake. “Lancelot”. _

He could hear the leadership in the Knight who was dubbed the unofficial leader of a noble group of heroes, the one that was there before everyone else, and the Knight who survived the longest. _ He hated his job as manservant. The prat was so arrogant and self conceited that sometimes it made his head want to explode. Training for the day had only just started and while it was a beautiful day out, he couldn’t enjoy the weather when polishing all this armor. It also didn’t help with Arthur’s jabs. “Let me just fight like Merlin, here. I think, a twig could fight better! I mean, look at him! So thin and frail.” He wobbled onto the training field, flopping around his sword as he did so. The knights around him laughed at the mockery. He huffed out an annoyed sigh and scrubbed the armor harder. A knight, who had injured his arm on a recent patrol, moved from where he was sitting and sat on the bench near him. “Don’t listen to Arthur. He may be a bully, but he is a good and honorable man underneath.” He audibly scoffed. “I can hardly see him being anything but an ass.” The man laughed. “I hope he keeps you around as manservant. You’ll be good for him. I’m Leon by the way.” He smiled at the sentiment. “Merlin.” _

He could see the smile of the giant Knight, who was never one for talking, but always knew what to say, giving him wise advice for years, when there were only a few of them left. _ Morgause and Morgana’s men had them cornered. Suddenly, a boulder is pushed in the crevice from up above, and when he looks up, there is a giant of a man standing next to Lancelot. Arthur approached Lancelot and the man, stabbing his sword into the ground. “I take it that rock fall wasn’t an accident.” Lancelot patted the man on the back. “Heh. This is Percival. It was his strength that brought them down.” The man gives a small nod at Arthur in return. “Your Highness”. _

He could feel the fierce protectiveness of the Knight who sacrificed himself for his sister and his friends in a dark and evil tower. Who always did what he thought to be right. _ The problem with going to the Castle of Fyrien to rescue Gwen’s brother Elyan was that Morgana came and he knew that she had turned against them. So, needless to say when they got captured, he knew the cause. After escaping their cell, they found the others pretty easily. He had to say he enjoyed shoving Arthur towards the guard and then Arthur sending said guard crashing through the door to the cell Gwen and Elyan were being held. Arthur, ever the hero burst through the door first. “Are you alright?!” Both breathed a sigh of yes. “Where’s Morgana?” was the next question, and he had to say he was not thrilled to go in search of her with Arthur, Gwen, and now Elyan. _

He could see the Knight, and more importantly King, that should have ruled over a land of peace, the one who was more than a best friend, _ a brother _ , that died before his time. _ “Tell me Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?” This was not going to end well. “No.” He was getting fed up with this guy pretty quickly. “I wouldn’t if I were you.” He laughed. “Why? What are you going to do to me?” He didn’t have the slightest clue what he could do. “You have no idea.” The man threw his arms in the air and took a step back. “Be my guest! C’mon, c’mon, c’moooon.” He threw about as good as a punch as he could at the man. The man retaliated by catching the punch easily. Who did he think he was? “Who do you think you are, the king?” the man leaned in. “No, I’m his son, Arthur.” _

He could hear the Court Physician, scolding him for doing something stupid or getting up late, a father figure to him, a mentor that helped him with magic when he didn’t know how to use it. _ “So how is it you know magic?” He really messed up. His first day in Camelot and he had already used magic in front of someone. “I don’t!” Gaius obviously didn’t believe him. “Where is it you studied? Silence. “Tell me!” He stuttered. “I don’t-I never studied magic, or-or been taught.” He was looked on in disbelief again. “Are you lying to me, boy?” No! He wasn’t! “What do you want me to say?!” Gaius looked exasperated. “The truth!” The truth it was. “I was born like this.” He looked taken aback. “That’s impossible!” Silence again. “Who are you?” Ah, a question that could easily be answered. “Oh! Ummm I have this letter.” He handed the letter from his mother to Gaius. “I-I don’t have my glasses.” The letter wasn’t really necessary anyway. “I’m Merlin.” Surprised flashed across his face. “Hunith’s son!” That was him! “Yes.” He looked confused. “But you're not meant to be here till Wednesday!” He tried to stifle a smile. “It is Wednesday.” Gaius looked away, a little embarrassed. “Ah.” _

He remembered the love and caring of the servant who became his best friend, who became an even better Queen, where she ruled for over 50 years with him by her side, a place where magic once again was legal, one where he was a Court Sorcerer and First Advisor to a wise and fair queen that was his first and last friend. _ Gaius’s deal may have gotten him out of the dungeons, but it didn’t stop him from being thrown in the stocks. Food pelted him from every direction, as villagers laughed and gathered more vegetables to throw. Gaius laughed at his expense as he walked past. A woman approached him after the food had stopped being thrown. She was wearing a red dress and wrapped in a red cloak and smiled shyly, as she walked up. Has he seen her before? “I’m Guinevere, but most people call me Gwen. I’m the Lady Morgana’s maid?” Ah, that’s where he had seen her. “Ah. I-I’m Merlin,” he reached out awkwardly to shake her hand, “although, most people call me idiot.” _

When he emerged from the basement, the sun had long since set over the lake and the moon shone brightly over waves, giving them an eerie quality. What few stars could be seen twinkled in the February night, forming stunning images across the sky. He remembered when he used to stand out on the battlements, watching the stars throughout the sky. It had calmed him. Especially after Arthur had died. Then, eventually, Leon and Percival passed on, and it was just him and Gwen. She would often come out and join him and while they didn’t talk, it was clear what they were both out there for. They were practically brother and sister after all. The comfort and love he got from this moments could never compare to anything else. He moved to stand out in his yard, and his toes curled under the grass, the cold of the snow covering the ground seeping into his feet. His breath came out in little tufts that made a cold mist around his face. He looked out to the sky and searched for constellations, one of the few constants in his immortal life. And for a second, it felt as if Gwen was there with him.

Soon though, he started to shiver where he stood, which was when he realized he forgot his jacket _ and _ shoes inside, and with a reluctant sigh, left the feeling of the now bitter cold to go into the warmth of the house. He turned the lights off as he walked the winding halls, and eventually made it to his fairly large room. Walking to the onsweet, he washed his face under the water, tiredly changed into a grey nightshirt and plaid pajama bottoms given to him by Sophia for christmas (and “ _ Thank you _ , Colin, for that wonderful jacket because I _ swear _ you, me, and ‘Manda are the only ones with any fashion sense around here.”) before crawling his way into bed. The bed was comfy and the blankets warm, and after only just pulling them over himself, he fell into a deep sleep.

That night, he dreamed.

_ The Lake of Avalon was deadly still. It was still in a way that the lake had never been. The unnatural errieness of water unnerved him to his core. Something was coming. He stood at the edge of the lake as the water moved like someone was rising from it. Could it be? Could he be back? Then, another spot rippled among the lake, and his excitement spiked even higher. He slowly made his way into the waves, soaking his feet, then his pants, getter closer closer closer, reaching reaching reaching for people that he hadn’t seen in far too long. The cold of the water phase him in the slightest as he moved even closer closer closer to the disturbances. He was so close. Almost there. Almost there. Just one more step… _

_ Something laughed behind him. It was a dark and evil laugh, and it came from everywhere and nowhere at once, echoing across the lake. He whipped his head around, looking for the source of the sound. “Hello? Who’s there?” He called trying to keep the fear out of his voice. He turned back towards where the bubbles, the disturbances, the small amount of hope he had was, and… the lake was calm. Completely and utterly still. He searched frantically in the water, calling names that hadn’t been on his tongue in many years. The lake remained still-almost as if the water was holding its breath, anticipating something. This only made him search more frantically, and tears threatened to spill out of his eyes. Then he spotted It in the corner of his eye. It was only then that he noticed that all the sound, from his frantic splashes and his incessant yelling to the laughing in the distance had gone quiet. Deathly and utterly silent. _

_ He sensed it before he looked at it. And when he turned, what he saw was nothing short of a nightmare. A large, opposing black mass. It was made of looked like a thick mist, so dark and black and inherently evil that he was sure no light could ever make it through. It was the shadow you saw in dark alleys at night, the ones under children's bed that made them afraid to fall asleep. The one that was told as a scary story told around the campfire, so that people were too afraid to wander off into the deepest depths of the dark. It radiated pure, unadulterated hatred and magic. It felt old, older than him, maybe even as ancient as the Old Religion itself. The power was unlike anything he had ever seen, swirling around in the depths of his gut. The power rolled off in waves, and unlike his magic, which was bright and pure and all things good, this beings’ was so dark and evil that it made him nauseous. _

_ The figure had blocked the sun-which shone over the water and was bright and pure like him- turned blood red as It moved closer to where he stood. If he thought about it, the sky looked like the blood of all the people that have died for him, that should have lived instead of he. It brought back a pain so deep in his heart, one that, even in sleep, he could not seem to escape. _

_ It laughed again. A bone-chilling laugh that sent sparks of fear to his very soul. Then It smiled, white teeth stretching into a sadistic grin, where no mouth had been present before. That smile unnerved him more than it ever should have. “Who are you? What do you want? What did you do to my friends?” _

_ It chuckled. “In time, everything will be answered. Your pathetic excuse of friends will rise from their slumber soon, and once they have returned, and you have finally found happiness, I will take everything you love away for you. Then I will crush you and the rest of this piece of rock with you. The world will burn. Ge ablinnan be æghwa dæg is nigh.” _

_ “I will sacrifice myself before you harm this beautiful planet. Before you hurt my family. You will die before you can hurt anyone.” He sneered at It. It seemed to have little affect to the words spoken. _

_ “You should fear me. For I am the beginning and I am the end. Nothing will stand in the way of me. Certainly not you and your magic, Emrys. You are not strong enough to stop me. For I am Pengguna Roh.” _

_ He couldn’t stop the shiver of fear from rolling down his spine. Not that he would let this thing see that. “Good will always defeat evil. The light will always overcome the dark. You will not win.” _

_ It moved and then the hulking mass was upon him. The air permeated death, and when It talked he smelled It’s breath. Dark and rotten, stinking of decay and blood. It curled around him, twisting and tightening around his body, making him struggle to breathe. All around him was black. Black black black. His voice came from everywhere direction once, disembodied. “You will break apart. You be ripped from the inside out and be torn to shreds. Then when those who love you most come to help, I will kill them all. Slowly, painfully. That’s when the world will die.” It uncoiled from around him then, twisting itself and shrinking back into view in front of him. _

_ A cold glint settled into eyes. “I’d like to see you try.” _

He didn’t sleep the rest of the night. Or the following day. Barely any the rest of the week. The lingering feeling of dread squeezed his heart, and with each breath he took, and each step he walked, the sky seemed to get just a little bit darker. And when a butterfly, a glowing, beautiful, vibrant, blue, landed gently on his arm, from where he sat in the bitter cold, Merlin felt true happiness for the first time in over 1,500 years.


	2. I Defied Death For This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin just wants a break. Send help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. This was supposed to be up like two weeks ago but I'm a procrastinator to the extreme. But anyways, enjoy!

He ran. He ran and ran and ran all the way down the stairs. He ran through the front door slipping on his jacket as he closed the door behind him. He ran past the gate and onto the stone path that twisted and turned through the forest. He ran past the dark lights, making them shine as he wove deeper and deeper into the snow covered trees. He ran all the way to the lake, not stopping once to catch his breath, not slowing down his speed. The winter had been harsh and cruel, and with it came a biting cold. His breath came out in pufts and the snow had started to lightly fall. In his haste to get to the lake, he hadn’t changed out of his night clothes, and his jacket alone did very little to keep Mother Nature at bay. Cursing himself for not grabbing gloves or eve and scarff to stave off the cold, he ran onward. To say that he was surprised and (if he was being honest proud) that he hadn’t slipped on any patches of ice as he came to the end the path was an understatement. One thing that unfortunately hasn't changed in the time he had been alive was his ability to be the clumsiest person the face of the Earth. He, at one point, foolishly hoped he would outgrow it. How wrong he was.  _ If anything _ , he thought to himself,  _ I’ve grown clumsier with age _ . He slid to stop at the beachfront, grabbing onto a nearby lampost to steady himself before walking down the frozen sands.

Merlin huffed from the exertion, before finally stopping at the edge of the waters. The snow, once coming down at a slow peaceful pace, he now picked up its energy and, mixed with the fierce wind, he could barely see halfway across the lake-and his visibility was becoming less and less with each passing minute. From what he could see, the lake, while it had frozen over just as all lakes do during the harsh winter months, now stood with quietly lapping waves as one might see in the spring or summer. While this surprised him, when he thought about it, he assumed it might be hard for Arthur to break through a thick layer of ice. The magic in the waters had seemed to recognize this. The snow and harsh winds seemed to wrap around the shoreline and an ethereal light now made the waters glow. The butterfly (which had stayed dutifully on his shoulders throughout the journey) disappeared into the water, dispersing into a shimmering blue inside the waves. He shivered again, rocking back and forth on his toes and trying desperately hard not to let that disturbing dream ruin his excitement of seeing Arthur return. 

He waited. He waited some more. He paced back and forth. Waited a little bit more. Contemplated why the hell he hadn’t brought something warmer. Paced some more. Huffed in annoyance at his now soaked slippers, which he warmed and dried with a flash of gold and proceeded to get annoyed again when 20 minutes later they were again soaked through from the snow. He dried them again. Yelled at Arthur to hurry the fuck up with resucecting himself already. Paced some more. Jumped up and down to get himself warm, and huddled further into his jacket. Hummed a song. Waited some more. This was the cycle that Merlin kept repeating, and after Merlin had just finished his fifth bout of yelling at Arthur to  _ please, please, please, hurry the hell up because he was going to freeze to death even though he didn’t actually think that was possible so nevermind, he might just catch a cold but either way if he didn’t rise up out of that damn water soon he was going to drag him up himself and make sure to hit every stone, branch and tree along the way,  _ when something in the air-a slight shift of the wind, the lapping waves coming to an abrupt stop, the eerie quietness-alerted him. 

_ Merlin was on edge. Morgana had most likely ripped a veil between the worlds. It felt wrong. Evil. Just like the woman-the Caliech that reached out to him. The coldness that swept over his body on Sahmain’s Eve at the stroke of midnight. A coldness that still echoed throughout him as they made their journey to investigate Howden. That woman-Drea-was afraid of those spirits. Although he did not care to admit it, he was afraid of them too. Anything that felt that wrong and that evil should not have any place in this world. Needless to say, every sound was making him jump. Like a woodpecker tapping away at a tree. _

_ “Merlin, you need you comfort blanket.” _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ “You’re making me edgy.” Well, Arthur may say that now, but he was not the only one on edge. The Knights had been quiet-quieter than usual. Even Gwaine wasn’t up for talking. The uneasiness that wrapped Merlin like a blanket seemed to have seeped into his friends. Just to prove his point, when Lancelot’s horse whined, he was not the only one startled by the sound. Elyan had jumped a little and Lancelot and Merlin looked at the horse warily. Even Arthur turned to look back at it. _

_ Arthur turned back to face front and confirming that it was, in fact, just a horse. Arthur tried to sound confident and just a touch bit annoyed at him, but Merlin knew he just as worried as the rest of them. “That’s a horse.” _

_ “Maybe it sensed something.” _

_ “Yes,” Arthur agreed, “that you’re a clotpole.” _

_ “That’s my word.” _

_ “Yeah, and it suits you perfectly.” _

By all the gods who took mercy on his poor immortal soul, he was finally going to see his best friend again. Even if he couldn’t see through the rapidly increasing snowfall. The bitter winds that were biting into his cheeks and making his hair look like what he was sure resembled a rat’s nest picked up in intensity even more. This was much to his dismay and he considered starting up his yelling again just to spite Avalon and Atrhur and the White Goddess or whoever else was listening. But maybe somebody took pity upon him as the winds and snow abruptly stopped, and the lake started to take on a blinding white glow. It increased in its luminescence fairly quickly and Merlin had to put a hand over his eyes to keep himself from going blind (even though he didn’t think it to be possible). The light faded and when he removed his hand from his eyes his was meet by not just Arthur, but Gwaine, Elyan, Leon, Percival and Gwen as well.

Gwen had no clue as to what was going on. The last thing she remembered was holding Merlin’s hands as she breathed her final moments. Admittedly, she had lived longer than most, a healthy 77 years. She remembered Merlin, her Court Sorcerer, First Advisor and most importantly best friend was there with her the whole way. She remembered all the days they would take solace in one another, after all the trials they had faced throughout the years. He was the only family she had left, and he did not fall through on his promise to be by her side. They took the good days with the bad, and even when they felt like crumbling apart, the other was there to pick them up. On the days that were especially hard, Gwen could find Merlin looking out over the battlements, his body stiff and a blank look on his face. She would join him, hands interlocking with his as they settled to his side. They would not say anything during these times, but rather let themselves reminisce on better days, getting lost in their memories. Finally, after hours of silence, Merlin would look at her with a bittersweet smile, tell her to get some sleep, and let go of her hand before walking back to his tower. Gwen would leave for her chambers not long after. Those nights she couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard she tried. She had a feeling that on these nights, the troubled warlock would not sleep either. The next day, as he sat down across from her for breakfast (a routine they had had both enjoyed for many years now), she would pretend not to notice the bags under his eyes. He would pretend not to notice the bags under hers. Then, he would sprout off on a rant or a story that would make her laugh and then he would laugh because she was laughing and they would forget about those sleepless, long, long nights for a little while. 

_ It was her time. She had felt it coming for awhile now, and knew that soon she would cease to exist. She stared at the ceiling from her place on her bed and prepared herself to pass into Avalon. Merlin sat on the edge of the bed next to her, bouncing his legs and biting his nails. Then, he got up and paced along the length of the room, running his fingers through his raven locks, a habit he had developed when he was upset or anxious.  _

_ Gwen watched on with amusement and just a hint of sadness. “Merlin, please come here and stop your silly pacing. There is nothing you can do. It’s not your fault-even though for some unfathomable reason you think it is. I am old Merlin, and have lived a long and happy life. I have accepted my death, and you need to as well.”  _

_ Merlin stopped in his tracks to stare at his friend as she spoke. He strode over to her, sitting on the edge of the bed and and taking her hand in his. “I-I can’t lose you Gwen. You’re the only family I have left. I'm sorry I can’t save you. I’ve scoured every magical and medical book I have and I could find nothing, NOTHING to help you at all. What will I do when you’re gone? I don’t want to live forever, Gwen. Live without you and Arthur and Leon and Percival and Gwaine and Elyan and Lancelot and and- ” he paused, struggling to hold in tears, “I want to g-go to Avalon w-with you Gwen. I don’t want to be here forever! Please stay! Please. You can’t die.”  _

_ By the end of his quite upsetting speech, his voice had dropped to a whisper. Silent tears fell down his face and Gwen decided not to mention that his grip on her hand had become extremely tight. “Merlin, I will not be gone forever. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die’, just like what Gwaine used to say.” This elicited a small, strained smile from Merlin. “You are the strongest, bravest, wisest most stubborn man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. You will survive. For yourself. For me and everyone else. I don’t know how long I will be waiting in Avalon, but I know that Arthur will come back to you and I will fight a thousand Sidhe, two thousand Morganas and a million quite frankly disgusting trolls if it means I can come back alongside him to see you again and give you what I promise will be the longest hug in the history of hugs.” _

_ Amusement mixed with deep sadness shone in his eyes. “You promise you’ll come back for me, Gwen?”  _

_ She gave a fond look to the best friend that she had ever had. The one she would most likely never see again. A look that was full of years of friendship and love. The man she had come to see as a brother. “When have I ever broke my promises?”  _

_ And as her eyes closed and she started to slip away into Avalon, she felt him kiss her forehead. “I love you, Gwen.”  _

_ She responded in kind with the last breath left in her body. “I love you too, Merlin.” Then Guinevere Pendragon knew nothing more.  _

Gwen remembered her last moments as if they were yesterday. They would be ingrained in her mind forever. She watched as Merlin lowered his hands from his eyes and stared at first Arthur, then her, then the Knights that stood beside them in all their Camelot glory, where she decided not to dwell on the fact that they all looked young again, like when Gwen and Merlin knew them those first few years, and decided to take in her long missed best friend. When she looked at him he looked as sweet and endearing as she remembered. He was wearing a strange, but looked to be high quality jacket. The jacket looked much like his in Camelot, only black and with strange metal contraptions on the pockets. Was he still a lord then? From what she remembered, only lords could afford such high quality clothing. This was matched with a loose fitting grey shirt, and pants with what looked like overlaying red boxes on them. The pants themselves looked comfortable and soft. He topped off the look with what she could only describe as pillow shoes, for they did not look sturdy in the slightest. The shoes, although she would not say to her friend, were fairly ugly in their appearance. A bright yellow adorned them, and on the front stood two large eyes with freckles and an odd smile stood underneath it. The outfit didn’t match in the slightest, but Merlin, by no surprise to herself made himself look good in it. This, coupled with his windswept hair and rosy cheeks made him look fairly adorable if she did say so herself.

She didn’t know how long she been gone. To her, it felt like minutes. But, then she looked into Merlin’s eyes, and saw great age in them. This was not the same man she had known back in Camelot. He held a heavy sadness in his eyes that when he turned to look at her she could see a man who had held more grief, pain, and wisdom than the best friend she had left behind in a cold and capricious world. But, that could just be her reading into situation so deeply. Merlin had always she could read emotions on people with as much ease as he could annoy Arthur at any given time. She wondered what he had gone through, the adventures had gone on. 

Gwen laughed at the gaping fish Merlin seemed to be imitating at the moment. Of course, she wasn’t sure her expression was much better. Or that of her friends. His face flashed between surprise, shock, confusion, and utter happiness. When he finally composed himself, putting on a somewhat stoic expression, he spoke to the group at large with what was a tone of hope and also complete confusion. “Eou’yr velai. lal fo yuo.” This made no sense to her at all and when she looked to her husband,  _ yes husband, because that’s right, he was alive _ , and all the Knights, they looked as confused as she felt.

Gwaine, ever the first to speak, voiced what she thought they were all thinking. “What the hell did he just say?”

Merlin tried again, saying something else equally confusing. “I tan’c ebileev ti. hsti si esnina. Hsti si… hsti si rmoe ahtn Iudolc vhae vree pdoeh rfo.”

Gwaine reprised his role as the group spokesperson and repeated his question. “I’m going to say it again just to make sure we’re all on the same page here. What the  _ hell _ did Merlin just say?”

Arthur was the one to speak up next. “I’ve been trying to tell you that clumsy oaf has hit his head one too many times. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had brain damage.” This remark earned a few laughs, a scoff, and smack upside the head delivered by herself to her husband for saying such things about their best friend.

Maybe the confusion that they wore had finally got to Merlin, because he, who still looked to be recovering from shock, spoke again. “Od yuo rdenuntasd em?” Or… maybe not. She loved this man, but he was making no sense right now.

Arthur threw his hands in the air with exasperation. “Merlin, if you would be so kind as to speak like a normal person, that would be great, thanks.”

Merlin made a sound that sounded a lot like ah as realization crossed across his face. He seemed to think something over for a moment be muttering a spell. “Besprecan min geþéode.”

His eyes flashed gold and something seem to move inside her throat, a warm feeling that tickled her tongue. The others seem to feel the same sensations, and seemed only mildly shocked to see Merlin use magic. She had a feeling they all suspected it at one point, even if no one spoke up. He wasn’t as subtle as he sometimes hoped. “Do you understand me now?”

“Yes, we understand you now. What gibberish was that before Merlin? I have never heard anybody speak as weirdly as you in my life.” Arthur jabbed at the warlock again.

Merlin rolled his eyes at his friend and tried to explain the situation. “You were talking  _ fel hyn _ . It’s an old language now. Nobody speaks that way anymore and they haven’t in a long time. A  _ very _ long time.” Merlin frowned at this statement and his shoulders seemed to weigh down suddenly with a heavy burden. “Come now, I can’t be the only one freezing out here and I do not intend to catch a cold tonight.” Gwen worried for her friend. His response was short and clipped and when he talked he sounded utterly tired. The warmth his voice held was still there, but it was not as bright as she had once known it. It had been dulled from god only knows what. But, right now was not the time or place to talk about that. Also, Merlin was right. When Gwen thought about it, she was starting to chill slightly. With no further ado, he promptly turned around and walked off down a dimly lit path. With a frown marring her features and more questions than answers between the six, they left to go after their friend. Gwen could only hope she hadn’t been waiting in Avalon for too long.

Arthur didn’t have the slightest clue as to what was happening. One second he was laying in the arms of his manservant,  _ no, sorcerer, _ and more importantly his best friend as he felt the life seep slowly out of himself, the next, he’s standing on a beachfront that covered in snow even though it’s  _ definitely not _ winter because they just had the festival for the Summer Solstice and  _ what the hell is going on and.. _ . he remembered finally understanding all that Merlin had done, all that he’d sacrificed for Arthur and his kingdom. He remembered saying words that he knew would never be enough, but all that he could say through the haze surrounding him.  _ Thank you _ . He remembered Merlin crying, sobbing, pleading, screaming for him to stay alive. The heartbreak that filled those bright blue eyes. He was pretty sure he slipped into the world of death after that. But, then again, here he was, on the shores of the same lake, all his knights and his dear beloved Guinevere standing by his side. He was almost positive he died, but when he felt where Mordred had stabbed him, he could feel nothing. No scar. No dizziness or pain or blanketly haze clouding his mind. Maybe he hadn’t died after all. Maybe Merlin managed to save him? Or maybe he had been healed over the course of his time in the Lake of Avalon. Had it been long? They still looked the same as when he left them. Hell, even Elyan was alive.

But, then there was the problem of his idiot manservant. Or should he say his clumsy buffoon of a best friend who just also happened to be the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the planet. Because when he had  _ finally _ gained his bearings and took in his surroundings, he was able to notice Merlin looking frankly shocked and surprised from where he stood in front of their little group. Even more strange was the clothing that he wore. Looking at it more closely revealed even more so how odd it was. Maybe he was in disguise. Or he got those clothes from a different kingdom. Either way the outfits he usually wore were  _ much _ better than whatever this was. Then the man started speaking gibberish, which when he thought about, wasn’t that far off from how he usually spoke on any normal day. Maybe he hit his head one too many times. He expressed as such outloud. This earned him a frankly quite hard hit upside the head from Gwen. “Merlin, if you would be so kind as to speak like a normal person, that would be great, thanks.” And maybe, just maybe something got through to him because he seemed to come to the realization that nobody could understand him and he proceeded to say a spell, because that’s right he was a  _ sorcerer _ and could do  _ magic because it’s not evil, Arthur and I only ever use it for you and _ when he finished, Arthur felt a warm, tingling feeling in his throat. This is when Merlin decided to speak again, and much to his delight, he could understand the man again.

Unfortunately, this made more confusion for his already confusion-addled brain. Because Merlin went on to claim that the  _ very normal and very correct  _ language they had been speaking was actually an old and unused one. He also implied it had been years since anyone had used it. Which made zero sense in the slightest because they had just been speaking in it. He chose to ignore the dramatics about the cold. But, then he looked closer at his friend, and saw a heavy burden weighing him down. Years beyond his eyes that had not been there the last time he had looked in them. He sincerely hoped he hadn’t been gone for too long. Then, Merlin abruptly turned and strode off, leaving all of them in his dust. 

Arthur struggled to catch up to his friend as he strode off. Well, he struggled to catch up with what was going on, really. At least he didn’t seem to be alone in this sentiment. Gwen strode to the right of him, looking all the bit worried as he felt. Merlin had seemed… off. Off for Merlin, that is. He lead the group after their friend, passing strange orbs that gave off light attached to long metal poles. Must have been magic used to illuminate the path. Which shouldn’t have surprised him because his best friend had  _ magic _ after all. The forest around him was covered in a blanket of snow, and it crunched under his boots as he trailed behind Merlin on the cobblestone path. The strange lights reflected the snow, making it sparkle even under the cover of night. It gave the whole area and otherworldly quality. Soon enough, they arrived at an open metal gate and when he looked up, he was met with a home that could rival most lords’ places. Dare he say it was bigger. Merlin hadn’t said a word the entire time they had been walking. That raised concerns in itself for Arthur. Usually he could never get the man to stop talking.

The home was made of large stones, and had a black roof. Some areas of it stretched taller than others, making what looked to be miniature towers. More of the strange lights, only smaller, lead down a cobblestone path towards the front door. It all reminded him achingly of Camelot. But, maybe in a way, that was Merlin’s intention.

“Wow, Merlin. Is this all yours? It’s beautiful.” He hummed in agreement with his wife. It truly held beauty behind it. Merlin shyly smiled at those words.

“Ah...yeah. Yeah. Thank you. It’s all mine. I’ve-well I’ve expanded it over the years. It wasn’t nearly as large as it is now. Nothing a little love and magic can’t do.”

They started walking again when Leon spoke up. ”Are still a Lord, Merlin?”

“You’re a Lord, Merlin?!”

“I’m not-”

“What! Merlin was never a lord!” Arthur knew that Merlin was never a lord. A lazy, clumsy, extremely loyal manservant, yes. A lord? No.

“Yes he was, after the Battle of Camlann. He-”

“The Battle of Camlann?”

“This happened only a few months after you died, Elyan. Morderd aligned himself with Morgana and there was a war between her men and Camelot’s. Mordred gave Arthur a mortal blow and Merlin brought him to the Lake of Avalon. Also, Merlin stabbed and killed Morgana.” Gwen just had to add that part in at the end, didn’t she.

“Nevermind. You guys can go and confuse yourselves. I’ll just be-”

Gwaine threw his hands up in the air with surprise. “MERLIN KILLED MORGANA?!”

“Yeah, with Excalibur.” Leon, no.

“I thought Morgana could only be killed with a blade forged in dragon’s fire?” 

“Uh. Excalibur was.” Oh no. Now he was even more confused than he already was. He really, really,  _ really _ hoped that Percival hadn’t just said that. 

“Hold on a second. My sword was forged with dragon’s fire? So what? Being the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the Earth wasn’t enough? He has to be a dragonlord too?!” He was pretty sure he was, at least. Arthur didn’t think that any dragon would willingly help Merlin with a sword made for a Pendragon. At least, he hoped.

“Merlin has magic. He’s the most powerful sorcerer to walk the Earth.” Well, Gwaine was processing this amazingly.

“That’s what I just said, Gwaine.”

“HA! I WAS RIGHT! NOBODY CAN GET LUCKY THAT MUCH!” 

Please. “He didn’t get lucky  _ that  _ much.”

“I have to agree with Gwaine on this one. He did get lucky quite often.”

“Thank you Percy. See, someone has common sense.” Gwaine had slung his arm of Percival’s at this point and was now giving them all a look that said ‘Ha-ha, I know more than you’. This was annoying to no end. 

“Anybody out there? Hellooooo? I’m recording all of this since you don’t seem to want to listen. Idiots. Except you, Gwenie. You’re smart.”

Leon’s question had developed their group into chaos. Between the half explanations, declarations about Merlin and Gwaine’s constant yelling, they must have looked like a bunch of highly rambunctious children. Arthur was pretty sure that Leon and Gwen had checked out have way through the conversation, except for the occasional facial expression that showed what exactly they thought of this conversation

He was startled out of the mess this conversation had devolved into by a whistle. Merlin had stopped at the intricately carved wooden doors leading to entrance to his house. All the talking had stopped, and when he finally focused on his friend, it was to a look of pure humor and exasperation. He must have picked up something for Gaius, because if possible, his eyebrows had raised higher than that of the Court Physicians’. He had one had on his hip, and the other was holding a small black box pointed right at them. “Oh, that’s definitely staying on there forever.” He laughed at their startled and wary looks, then proceeded to tap something on the box and put it back in his pocket. “Now, if you would like to come in out of freezing cold and actually listen to me, I’m sure I can answer your questions. Now, would you pretty please come in? Unless of course, you would stay outside and get frostbite.”

Arthur chose not to question the black box Merlin had been holding for the time, and instead, trudged into the house behind him. As he entered into the large foyer, a blast of warmth hit his place. He didn’t think he had ever been to a place that held so much warmth in the winter. After everyone had shuffled inside and Merlin had asked them most poliety to close the door so the heat wouldn’t escape-and honestly someone would have to be insane to not close it because the heat felt  _ so  _ nice-he finally could have a look around the room. The floor was made of polished wood and walls looked to be painted at navy blue. Above them stood another strange light made of glass-dangling down over the space-designs carved into the shining material. A painting of the oceanside stood on one wall, the other side held a long wooden table that was decorated with a variety of odd objects from a piece of paper in a glass bottle to a pile of papers all stacked on top of eachother. But the thing that stunned him most was very realistic painting of Merlin and three other men standing on an oddly shaped ship. The ship’s side said  _ Excalibur _ . How ironic. “Who painted this Merlin?” He asked, pointing over to it on the table and grabbing the attention of others in the room, “It’s very lifelike.” 

“Ah,” Merlin moved over to pick up the painting and picked it up, giving a fond smile down at the faces, “that’s me, Ty, Eddie, and Eddie’s brother Marvin. We went on a camping trip for Eddie’s birthday a few years ago. We spent a day on my boat over at the campgrounds. Tyler proposed to Eddie that night, after the stars had come out and the lake had gone quiet. It was really quite sweet. They just got married last year. It was quite a beautiful wedding. And I’ve been to many. Also, this is not a painting, but a picture. It’s a newer invention.”

He gently set the painting  _ no, picture _ back on the table and gestured for them to follow him into a room off to the side of the foyer. He sat on an oddly comfy chair which was also much longer than he thought chairs were supposed to be. Gwen and Leon joined him on the long chair, while Gwaine threw himself on the floor with a thud. Elyan and Percival took the other long chair and Merlin stood in front of the group. He ran a hand through his hair and took a long sigh. “What do you want to know?”

Okay, so maybe they were all a little tired. Or maybe he  _ really _ just didn’t feel like explaining that he was immortal and had seen more death and misery and sadness in his lifetime than they would experience in three. So after explaining that  _ no he wasn’t a lord  _ and  _ yes, he was the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth,  _ and  _ yes, he was a dragonlord _ , he had to say he honestly more tired and drained than he had been in a long time. Plus it was too early to get into a lifetime of trauma.

He clapped his hands together to end the conversation. “Okay. I’m tired. You’re all tired. I’m suggesting you go to sleep like I’m about to do. I can show you around in the morning or evening or whenever you wake up again. I would let you sleep in your own rooms, but I honestly thought only the prat was returning and didn’t plan on any more guests. I’ll get you all rooms in the morning, but for now, you can sleep in here if you like.” He was going to have to raid at least three closets for enough blankets and pillows for all of them. “Just-just give me a sec, okay?” He definitely didn’t notice Gwen’s worried looks she kept shooting his way. And he most certainly didn’t see Gwaine’s or Percy’s or Leon’s or Elyan’s concern. Or Arthur’s. Hell, it must be bad if Arthur was showing outside concern. Nope. Not at all.

He calmly walked out of room, stopped to take in a shaky breath, then he ran up the stairs probably faster than was needed. He stopped in front of the large hallway closet and tried to calm his racing heart. Also maybe try to stop his shaking hands. No, now was not the time to have a panic attack. He’s fine. He can do this. Nope. Not today, Satan. Just get the stuff for his friends to sleep and  _ when did it get so hard to breath  _ and then he could sleep and  _ oh, god _ he can’t get any air and the edges of his vision are greying and his heart was thumping too fast and-

Somebody was holding him. “Breath, just breath Merlin. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” They warm and soft and felt like comfort and  _ home _ and everything good he lost. Tears threatened to fall out of his eyes, and when the person tightened their grip and held him closer closer  _ closer _ in a way that he has been held in over a thousand years, the tears broke through and he cried. He cried for all the friends that he had lost, all the sacrifices he had made, all the years he was alone in this cruel world. The person hugged them tighter and whispered reassurances in his ear. They smelled of flowers and those tarts they always used to share. They hugged him tighter and when he finally stopped crying, they still didn’t let go. Gwen didn’t let go for a long time, and Merlin was entirely grateful for it.

“I promised I’d come back. I’m pretty sure I also promised a hug. But only for my best friend.” He let out a wet laugh at that. “I don’t know how long it’s been since I died, Merlin. But I do know, you’ll never be alone again.” She got him one last long squeeze. Before standing up and brushing off her dress.

“Thank you Gwenie. I thought,” he stood up off the floor, slowly rolling out a kink out of his neck, “maybe you would like some comfier clothes? I’ll go shopping for more clothes in the morning, but I’m sure I have something you can wear for the time being.” Gwen tried to protest the offer, saying she was fine, but Merlin only dragged her into his room and sat her on the bed. “I’m sure ‘Manda won’t mind. Just give me a sec...” She raised her eyebrow at that. “Ah hah! I hope this fits.” He pulled out a silk nightgown, purple in it’s color and reflecting off of the lights in the room.

Gwen took the nightgown with care. “Thank you, Merlin. But I have to ask, who is ‘Manda?” At this, the warlock rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish look and mumbled something under his breath. “What was that?” Gwen was giving him a knowing smirk.

“Amanda, she’s um... she's my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for almost two years now. She sleeps over here sometimes.”

The Queen stood up and gave her Warlock a bright smile. “I’m glad you found somebody. You deserve to be happy, Merlin. You’ll have to tell me all about her later. I’ll be sure to thank her when you introduce us.” He smiled at that, the first true, smile she had seen on him since her return. He pointed at his bathroom and told her she could change in there. Gwen changed soon enough and came out with her dress in hands. “This feels wonderful. No wonder Amanda wears it. This must have been expensive.”

Merlin took the dress from her with a promise to have it cleaned and hung up in her room once it was ready. “The dress wasn’t as expensive as you might think. Much has changed over time, including the prices of materials such as the silk of that dress.” Gwen hummed her acknowledgment. 

“Help me bring down some pillows and blankets?”

He moved back to the hallway and after going through his closets, him and Gwen shuffled their way downstairs with the items towering over their heads. Setting up was easier than expected and after a few minutes, Gwen and Arthur had settled on one couch and Gwaine took the other, and the rest of the Knights moved about the room and promptly fell asleep. Merlin shut off the lights after this, and closed the doors that open into the kitchen and foyer, silently making his way back upstairs to his room. 

Sleep did not come easily for him though. After much tossing and turning, he gave up a night of rest for the comfort of a book. He grabbed it off of the nightstand beside him, turning on the lamp, and read.

Before he knew it, the sun had risen and a new day had begun. Shutting his book and turning off the light, he gathered what little energy he had and made his way over to shower. The scorch of the hot water on his skin relaxed him while simultaneously helping him to wake up. But, it also gave him time to think. Thinking things over too much had never turned out good himself. It was making him particularly stressed at the moment.

Arthur had come back from the dead. Well, actually all the Knights, Gwen  _ and _ Arthur had come back from the dead. That was a surprise in itself. Then there was that nightmare or premonition or whatever it was with that creepy as fuck monster that decided it was going to take over the world. Nothing new there. Then of course, he has to go and have a panic attack right in front of Gwen, certifying that he is definitely  _ not  _ alright even though he was desperately trying to be. And now he had to figure out how to tell his friends that they had been dead for over 1,500 years. Great. Just what he needed. But he could handle it, right? 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where do you think this going? Let me know in the comments below! Also, I'll try to be more punctual with updating, but bear with me as I'm starting school in another few days and have no idea what the workload will be like. But, Senior year, so yay! :))


	3. The Good, The Bad and The Okay, I Guess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I know this chapter took awhile, but, I'm trying as best as I can to get at least one chapter up a month. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, fluff. Lots and lots of fluff.

Merlin decided that he hated mornings. He hated how the sun, in all it’s mighty glory, rose in the sky from the ungodly early morning hours of the day. He hated the bright, sharp, soft warm rays that snuck their way through the atmosphere, through the bare winter trees, through the windows that reflected the snow covering the ground, all the way to the inside of his home, where they blinded him and reminded his utterly tired brain of the next to no sleep he had gotten the night before.

** **

Insomnia was an enemy that Merlin had fought for all of his  _ very _ long life. It stalked in the corners of his mind-in the shadows made by the daylight. It slept in the dark bags under his eyes and was there to push down his drooping eyelids. Insomnia moved in the night, waiting until he had finally relaxed and given himself over to exhaustion. Then, he would slink out of his hiding spot and reached his dark tendrils. They moved from the floor to his bed and then finally invaded his mind. It attacked him-kept him in the land of the awake. Sleep would try to comfort him, try to wrap her warm, peaceful haze around him, but Insomnia’s powers were much stronger. It was the exact opposite of Sister Sleep. Brother Insomnia was cold and pulled, tugged,  _ ripped _ him from his bed, left him wandering aimlessly, a bitter feeling left in his mind. Merlin had fought Brother Insomnia in his childhood years in Ealdor. When he was afraid of being alone, of not fitting in, of being hidden from the world forever. He traveled with Merlin to Camelot, where he was afraid of Arthur finding out about him, rejecting him, pushing him away. He was afraid for people's lives then-because he had made a family there. His brother followed him after Arthur’s death and made sure he didn’t forget the light going out of his eyes as he failed to take him to Avalon in time. He still didn’t let him forget that. His brother stayed by his side through every death, every war, every time his heart was broken. He keeps his sister caged-only letting her out when he had finally given into exhaustion. When he couldn’t take it anymore. Brother Insomnia was with him that night as he was most. Last night the tendrils had filled his mind with doubts for the future. For the monster stalking his dreams. For his friends. For a future not yet come to pass. His brother was a demon, that, for all the power he had, couldn’t fight. He didn’t think he ever could. 

** **

That was how he found himself grumbling and grumpy-stumbling down the hallways as quietly as he could toward the kitchen. One power that could stave off tiredness echoing in his eyes was coffee. A new weapon he had acquired-one that his brother was wary of, and one that his sister very much disapproved of-especially at night. But now it was morning and as he entered the kitchen and turned on the bright overhead lights, the smell of freshly brewed coffee invaded his nose. That was one of his favorite smells. He moved to his cupboard and got his favorite mug. It was a color-changing one-black and shiny on its shelf in the cool dark, but when it was filled up with the hot, brown liquid, gold words shined through the material. It was the inscription of the One Ring from the Lord Of The Rings-his favorite books series and consequently one of his favorite movie series. He took the full coffee pot and poured himself the liquid, drinking it black. Just like his soul. He snorted at that.

** **

He walked over to the glass sliding doors that separates him from the cold outside. The fresh snow looked untouched and pure white and sparkling in the bright morning rays. He wrapped both hands around his mug, warming his hands as he took another sip from it. It looked just like the snow when... 

** **

_ The white powder covered the ground up to his knees. He trudged forward, uphill, growing more and more worried as time went on. Him and Ryan had gotten separated last night during the storm. He knew they shouldn’t have gone on this stipid research trip. It was high in the mountains and wildlife was plentiful and dangerous. But Ryan had insisted, and now he had up and disappeared in what had to be the worst storm in the century. He had been searching for hours now, and the only sign he had found was dropped research papers that Ryan had been working on. And Ryan would never ever ever leave those papers behind. They were his life’s work. But that had been this morning and now the sun was setting in the sky. Ryan was lanky like Matthew, only without the magic-he had no way to defend himself. That was when he stumbled into a clearing. The snow was pure and a blinding white-untouched and beautiful. That is, until he looked to the center of the clearing. For there was Ryan-or what was left of him. Blood spilled over the snow, a dark red that starkly contrasted the white. His eyes were wide open, and there was a gash on his head. Matthew expected that he had fallen and died when he head hit a large rock that had previously been covered by snow. The rest of his body had been ripped and torn at. Chewed on. It was a ghastly sight and he choked on his tears as he examined his lover. It seemed that the wolves had gotten to Ryan before he had. He carried his Ryan back to camp and dug him a grave. It was tough work because the ground was frozen and had to stop to cry more than once. Ryan was laid to rest on that mountain side-a makeshift grave that did the man no justice. Nothing ever would. Ryan would hate this. This grief. This pain. He would say “Sometimes Matthew, bad shit happens. People die. But you can’t let the pain and grief eat you up. Remember them for all the happiness they brought into your life. The smiles and laughs. The shared secrets and long nights. And move on. Don’t dwell on the past, because then you will never make it to the future.” He was smart like that. Ryan had loved Matthew, and Matthew had loved Ryan in return. He left the next day as Nicolas-the name Ryan had wanted for a son when they finally adopted. He went to America after that and didn’t return to England for another 82 years. _

** **

“Merlin?” He jumped from his spot at the glass and hastily wiped the tears from his eyes.  _ When had he started crying?  _ He turned towards the spot the voice had come from to see Gwen. Her hair was tangled and dishealved from sleeping, although it still fell in perfect curls around her head. She rubbed the sleep from eyes and walked over to where he was standing. 

** **

“Did you sleep well Gwen?” She hummed in response to this and stretched out her arms, wincing as they cracked. She gave him a soft smile, glancing down at the drink in his hands with a confused look. “I didn’t expect you to be up yet.”

** **

“I couldn’t sleep well. But the boys are still sleeping. I expect they will be for a while. What,” she pointed at the coffee, tilting her head to the side as she did so, “is that?”

** **

Merlin pointedly took another sip of the liquid. “It’s this newer drink called coffee. It’s a strong, bitter drink, but sometimes people put sugar or cream in the drink to sweeten it. It comes in so many varieties, I don’t think you could try them all if you tried. It has caffiene in it, which gives you a load of energy. I drink it black, which means there isn't anything in it. Do you want to try a sip?”

** **

Gwen peered inside the cup, watching the liquid swirl. “I would love to try a sip if you would allow me.” She reached out and took ahold of the cup. “It’s hot!”

** **

He laughed at this. “Sorry! I forgot to tell you. It should be okay to drink if you blow on it, though.”

** **

Gwen, like her friend had been doing, wrapped both hands around the cup and slowly brought the drink to her lips, tilting the cup back so that the bitter liquid could make it to her mouth. Surprised look flashed across her face and Merlin feared that she had hated it, but then she took another sip. And another. “This is delicious, Merlin. I wish they had this in Camelot.”

** **

“Me too. I’m actually quite surprised you like it black. Want a mug for yourself? I have extra.”

** **

“Please.”

** **

Merlin pulled out another mug from the cabinet and poured the coffee for Gwen. She took a sip from her own cup this time, and let out a sigh as the warm liquid slid down her throat. Merlin leaned across the counter from her and revealed in the easy comfort-one that he had not felt for over a millenia. He hadn’t lost Camelot to time, although the weather and wear and tear did break it down. He had lost Camelot with each death of his family. Lancelot. Elyan. Gwaine.  _ Arthur _ . Percival. Leon. Gwen. They died, and a little piece of Merlin left with them. A little piece of home. After Gwen passed, Camelot was no longer his home. He may have loved it there, the castle, the people, the beautiful forest that surrounded it, but what made it home was them. Because they  _ were _ his home. And now, now that they were here again, sleeping just in the other room, Merlin felt as if he was home. He smiled at that. “What are you so happy about?”

** **

“Nothing important. Would you like to accompany me to the store?” She looked at him quizzingly. “Sorry. Market. Would you like to accompany me to the market? You can pick out some clothes for yourself and help me pick some out for Arthur and the Knights. We can even grab breakfast on the way home. They have these delicious pastries called doughnuts. You’ll love them.”

** **

Merlin watched as Gwen gave a bright smile. “I’d be happy to come.”

And as him and Gwen walked away, Merlin pretended not to see the blood on the stark white snow.

* * *

Gwen decided that she very much liked these new things called “cars”. It had been a little startling at first, when her and Merlin had arrived to what he had called a garage. It was a place apparently, that held said cars. His was pretty, and stunning shining black and red, and when she sat down in the comfortable leather seat, she was confronted with a number of odd things. Of course, Merlin explained. The buttons played music and cooled or warmed the air on command (and who wouldn’t love that!), and the windows moved up and down with a button. He explained that it had the power of hundreds of horses and “No, Gwen, it’s not magic, it’s machines made by metal put together to move the car at impossibly fast speeds.” The carriage came on with a quiet roar, startling her and quite frankly scaring her in the most queenly way-so nope, not at all.

But, then he started to drive, and she found she quite enjoyed riding in the strange carriages.  _ No. Cars. Merlin said they were called cars. Cars, Gwen. Get it right _ . In barely anytime, they had arrived at the market, a place Merlin called Tesco. This strange market was huge, and Gwen assumed it held more in it than three of the markets in Camelot combined. They climbed out of the car and walked to sliding doors, which were again, not magic, and Merlin grabbed her by the arm and proceeded to take her to what she assumed to be the clothes. Although, most of the clothes looked very strange. He told her to pick out anything that might look interesting to her, and she could try it on and see if she liked it.

In the end, Gwen found herself with three pairs of strange pants called jeans (although they were most comfortable), two soft shirts that Merlin had called “t-shirts”, a blouse, a dress, an overcoat, and two pairs of shoes. She tried to tell Merlin that she didn’t need any of it, and that it was way too much, but he was insistent. That being said, they also grabbed clothes and shoes for all the other knights, going through the sizes and comparing them to what they remembered fit their friends. They came out of the store with a few hundred euros less in Merlin’s pockets and more bags than they could carry. 

After stuffing everything into the car, Merlin drove her to a quaint little bakery. When she stepped into the small shop, she was assaulted by sweet aromas. “It smells wonderful in here, Merlin.” He hummed in agreement with her and moved to get into line. She followed, sliding in next to him staring at the display case filled with breakfast pastries and doughnuts. 

Merlin follows her gaze towards the food, letting out a quiet laugh. “That right there,” he points to the strange looking food with a hole in the center, “is a doughnut. It’s kinda like...” he seems to be searching for the right words, as how to explain them to her when “... a small cake with a hole in the center. It’s a popular breakfast food, but people have them at all times of the day. They’re made many different ways. Dipped in chocolate. Covered in powdered sugar. Frosted. The possibilities are endless.” He spread his arms out to the sides at his, a grin entertaining his face. “Also, they’re very delicious. We’re getting two dozen.” 

She raised her eyebrows at this, because surely, that was too much to eat. But, she was also eager to eat these doughnuts, and her friend seemed all too excited to get these strange breakfast cakes.

They approached the front of the line and an older woman with a bright smile turned to take their order. “Oh! Good morning, Colin!”

_ Colin? _ “Good morning Mrs. Agnes. How are you today?”

“I’m doing wonderful! But I should be asking you that. After all it isn’t everyday that you turn twenty seven! You must be doing something with Amanda today. And who might this be?”  _ Twenty-seven?! _

Gwen blushed at the sudden attention and tried to not let her confusion show. “I’m Gwen. I’m an old friend of...” she glanced at her friend, and he gave her a pleading look “... Colin’s. I came to visit him. For his-for his birthday.” She was  _ so _ getting an explanation after this.

“Oh! Well, what a pleasant surprise. Will you be getting your usual?”

“No, not today. I’m feeding seven. I think I’ll take two dozen of your famous doughnuts. And before you ask, surprise me.” 

“Of course!” The lady, Mrs. Agnes, moved about the display case, grabbing different doughnuts and filling up two boxes. Merlin moved to get out his wallet and pay, but she stopped him. “No! No!” She swatted away Merlin’s hands at this, and Merlin gave her a startled look. “It’s your birthday, take them. And before you protest, young man, it is the least I can do for all the help you give me. I would make me extremely happy if you took them.”

“Ah, thank you, Mrs. Agnes, but you really don’t have to do that. It isn’t a big deal.”

She scoffed. “Oh please, it’s your birthday, you deserve to be spoiled. Now, go on you youngsters! Go! Enjoy your birthday! Have fun!” She swatted her hands at them and Merlin, quietly thanked her again, before grabbing the two boxes with food and exiting the building.

When they made it inside the still considerably warm car, Gwen turned to face her friend. “What was that?! One, your name is  _ not _ Colin. It’s Merlin, and occasionally Emrys. Two, no offense Merlin, but you are not twenty-seven. Hell, you were twenty-eight when Arthur died. Also,” she cleared her throat, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME IT WAS YOUR BIRTHDAY! I AM YOUR BEST FRIEND, AND YOU SHOULD TELL ME THESE THINGS!” Merlin cringed back at her words, and admittedly she felt a little guilty, but she also wanted answers. 

“You’re yelling.”

“I’M SORRY, BUT I’M VERY MAD AND UPSET THAT YOU DIDN’T TELL ME! HAPPY BIRTHDAY BY THE WAY. ALSO, I WANT WANT ANSWERS. NOW PLEAS. ”

Merlin raised his hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay. Just calm down.”

“OKAY. I CAN DO THAT.” She took a few relaxing breaths before sitting back down in the car seat.

“She called me Colin because legally, as of right now, that is my name. Colin Morgan.” Gwen nodded at this, but it also confused her immensely. Why would he change his name?

“She is also not wrong. It is my twenty-seventh birthday. She just off a few years.” Gwen raised her eyebrow at that. She had no idea where he was going with this, but she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like it. “I’m um- I’m 1,527 years old. As of today. So… yeah. Yeah.”

She must have heard that wrong.  _ Nobody _ was that old. Nope. No way. Her friend is just joking with her. But then she looks at him,  _ really _ looks at him, the sadness, the wisdom and age that seems to weigh him down. And then she knows. She knows right then and there that he wasn’t lying. So she stops. And stares. And blinks back tears, because her friend has suffered so much, done so much, been alone for so long. She knows that nothing will ever make up for over 1,400 years of absence, but she vows from then on that he will never be alone again.

So she awkwardly reaches over the seat and gives her best friend in the whole wide world a hug. When he hugs back, clinging for dear life like he’ll lose her all over again, she hugs a little harder. Then she whispers inadequate words, but the best she can do. And she says it with all her heart. “I’m sorry.”

When he starts crying, she runs her hands through his hair and doesn’t stop. They sit there for awhile. Just the two of them. Just the way it used to be, and just as it is now. Them against the world.

Those words won’t ever be enough, but as he lets go and pulls the car out onto the road, she knows that they will be okay for now.

* * *

The drive home is silent. But Merlin is okay with that, and he thinks Gwen is too. Her words meant so much more to him than she could ever imagine. It wasn't much, but he knew, that unlike most people, she genuinely and honestly was sorry. Sorry, for the very very very long life he had to live. Sorry for the horrors he had seen. The deaths. The loneliness. It was an apology for not being there, for not facing them too, like it always used to be.

But it was also more than that. Her words brough comfort and home. Something that he hadn’t felt in a  _ very  _ long time. He knew he would have to explain everything to all of them eventually, but right now this was a start. One that he was more than happy with.

They pulled into his house a little after one, and quietly made their way to the kitchen, where Gwen set the clothes out on a table, and Merlin open up the box of doughnuts and put them on the counter. Merlin picked a powdered sugar doughnut and chomped into it with about as huge of a bite as he could get. They were messy things, and the sugar always got on his mouth, he clothes, and whatever other surface it could land on. But  _ damn, they are delicious _ . 

Merlin continued to eat his doughnut, and gave Gwen a grin and a thumbs up when she raised an eyebrow at his messy antics. He gestured over to the flimsy box. “Pock on.” Gwen rolled her eyes at him, but he knew she was fluent in all languages him, including ‘my-mouth-is-full-of-food-but-I’m-still-going-to-try-to-talk-like-a-normal-person’ garble, and not limited to: the ‘Arthur-is-a-prat-and-annoying’ grumbling sounds, the ‘I-lived-with-Gaius-for-10-years-and-have-picked-up-a-few-things’ eyebrow raise and the ‘I-think-I’m-a-good-liar-but-not-really’ nervous laugh. So, she “picked one” of the frosted chocolate doughnuts from the box and took a tentative bite.

Merlin knew he had scored when that look came over her face. It was the same face he had made when he first tried one. It was one of surprise, excitement, and quite ravenous look that she shared with both him and the unsuspecting breakfast food. She took another bite, and in record time downed the doughnut. Merlin had to say he was happy with this turn of events. Merlin took the last bite of his and beamed at her. “Told you they were good.”

“You told me they were good. Not  _ delicious,  _ Merlin. May I have another?”

Merlin gestured toward the open box. “Of course. Anything for another doughnut enthusiast like myself, my queen.” He gave a mock bow at that, and Gwen gave him a light-hearted shove.

“Stop it!” She herself now took on a mischievous grin, grabbing another doughnut from the box. “I thank you for bestowing this gift upon me, my lord.” She did her own mock bow back at him.

“Hey! You know I don’t like titles!”

“Well then maybe,” she singsonged as she stepped around the counter, doughnut in hand, “you shouldn’t call me by mine!”

In an act of rebellion, that he would soon later regret, as  _ he  _ was the one who was going to have to clean up the kitchen, he flicked the powdered sugar still on his hands. At her. Towards her face. She gave him a downright offended look.  _ Oh shit _ .  _ He was going to die _ . But then, something unexpected happened. She took her fingers, covered them in frosting, and smeared them all over his face. “You’re on.”

This was when things took a turn for the worse. Because within 15 minutes, they had managed to destroy over a dozen doughnuts, cracked three eggs which were now dropping on the walls, and covered their faces in various forms of sugar. To any outside spectators (not that there were any at the moment), it would look as if the balance between the peace, quiet and the two friends had devolved back to the years of the cavemen. It truly was a sight to see. A sight it was. For neither of the two had noticed how loud they were, or that they were now being watched by 5 very amused knights.

“Ahem.” 

Needless to say, both him and Gwen jumped. High. “Arthur! Arthur. How are you?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at both of them, and Gwaine looked very much like he wanted fall to the ground laughing. “ _ What _ are you two doing?”

Merlin gave a nervous laugh and brushed the crumbs of a destroyed doughnut onto the floor. “Nothing. Just enjoying some breakfast.”

“Is that so?”

“It  _ was _ very delicious, wasn’t it?” Merlin hummed in agreement. “But only youngsters such as ourselves can enjoy such things. You’re all too old to eat such delicacies.” At this, Merlin snorted quite loudly and gave Gwen look that said she was quite enjoying this.

“Too old?! I would like to inform you two that you are the youngest out of all of us.”

Merlin raised his eyebrow at this. Gwen snickered. “Something funny?”

“No. No. Not at all.”

Merlin waved his hand, and all the messes disappeared. He waved them again and him and Gwenie were clean. He had started to move over to the clothes to give to his friends when he noticed the shocked expressions on their faces. Especially Arthur, Elyan and Gwaine. Right. They weren’t used to seeing him do that. He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Sorry. Habit.” That seemed to be enough of an explanation for them because their faces dropped and eyed the bags Merlin had been moving towards.

“We went and got you new clothes! Merlin was telling me that people where different things these days, so we had a little shopping trip and got you some things! Go change and then come back to the kitchen because you  _ have got to _ try these things called doughnuts. They’re so good!”

The rest of the morning, or well, afternoon passed by fairly quickly. Needless to say, the doughnuts were a huge hit (Merlin was  _ very _ happy about this fact). Merlin was just getting ready to make dinner, because he  _ could cook, Arthur _ , when the doorbell rang. The talking abruptly stopped and all heads except Merlin’s whipped to where the sound came from. Arthur and Leon went to reach for their swords, only to frown when they remembered that Merlin had took them away at the safety of the valuables in his house. And also the sanity, but that didn’t matter much. “It’s okay. Just the doorbell. It lets me know that someone is at the door. Just… stay in the kitchen. Please.” At Merlin’s obvious calmness they relaxed back against where they were sitting. Although some adopted wary looks towards the door, so Merlin moved from his place at the kitchen counter and started toward the hallway. “I’ll go check to see who it is.”

Merlin moved down the hallway at a brisk pace, and wondered who could be here. When he finally reached the wooden doors and opened them, he was surprised to not only find Amanda, but also Ty and Eddie, with a hovering Sophia in the background, peeking over Tyler’s shoulder. Eddie was weighed down by four pizza boxes and two bags of breadsticks. Amanda carried a box full of what looked like presents. All had big smiles on their faces. “Are you going to let us in, birthday boy, or just stand there?” He, at this point, realized he had been staring at the group for an uncomfortable amount of time, blocking the doorway. Sophia, ever the impatient one, pushed her way through the group and past Merlin, into his house. Tyler snickers and followed in after her, Eddie rolling his eyes but right on their tails.

“Happy birthday, Colin.” Amanda smiled at him, and then Merlin swung his arm out, and gestures for her to come in. Closing the door, Merlin took the box from her while she shrugged off her coat and shoes, where she then grabbed them again and looked to the group in the foyer. 

“Who has arrived at your estate?”  _ Shit. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. Don’t you dare come out here, Arthur. Don’t make me explain things. Don’t do it. Please. Please please please. Don’t…  _

_ Fuck you. _

“Who the hell is that?” Eddie was giving Arthur and Merlin the most confused look he could muster, and his other friends were not far behind. King Idiot looked at Merlin now too, with that questioning gaze he had when he was trying to figure a really confusing situation. Like this one. Then, at the exact same both Sophia and Arthur speak.

“Colin?”

“Merlin?”Arthur mouthed  _ Colin?  _ To him.  _ I’ll explain later _ , he mouthed right back.

_ Deep breaths, Merlin. Deep breaths. _ “Remember how I told you about that group of friends I had that were going on a trip around the world?” Something clicked in Amanda’s eyes.

“The ones that disappeared two years ago and you haven’t heard from since? The ones you thought were dead?”

Merlin gave her a grateful smile. He really didn’t want to explain this. “Yeah. yeah. Those ones. Turns out,” he laughs awkwardly at this, “they’re not so dead after all!”

“Well that’s good… right?” Tyler seems unsure at this. Probably because he rarely brought up his other friends, and when he did it was with a hint of sadness that couldn’t been misplaced. He thinks Tyler blames them for leaving Merlin. Merlin doesn't think he ever could.

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s very,  _ very _ good.”

Sophia, on the other hand, did not seem to hold any reservations to the new guests. She always was the most extroverted person Merlin had ever met. “Well, since  _ Colin _ over there is taking his sweet ol’ time, I guess I’ll just have to introduce myself. Hi! I’m Sophia Harold. Prank enthusiast, Netflix binger and receptionist extraordinaire!” At this point, she throws her hands out to her sides and does a twirl, giving Arthur her brightest smile. That,” she points to the two other men, “is Tyler and Eddie Linter. Two super smart dudes with super smart degrees, who make a super cute couple. And on occasion, one of them can crack a good joke. Although,” She put her hand to her face, covering part of her mouth and leaning in as if to whisper something, but the whole room could hear it anyways, “Eddie is the funnier one.”

“Hey! Why you little shit...” Tyler went to shove Sophia at this point, but she dodged and both started laughing. The rest of the knights had started to come in behind Arthur at this point, and all of them were watching on with faint amusement.

At this point, Sophia cam to stand to the right of Amanda, and was now moving her hands in every which way, as if showcasing her friend. “And last! But very not least…. Our very own Amanda Brooks! One and only fashion icon, dog lover and most importantly, the geekiest of geeks!” Amanda scoffed at this, but didn’t deny it. Merlin smirked at that. She had always been very geeky. But he couldn’t say much, because well… yeah. It takes one to know one. “Now, Colin, why don’t you introduce us to your all  _ very _ good looking friends.”

Merlin rolled his eyes at the comment, but did as she asked. “Sophia, Ty, Eddie, ‘Manda, this is Arthur, Gwaine, Elyan, Leon, Percival and Gwen.” He pointed to each of his friends as he said their names, moving back towards them and consequently the kitchen. 

Apparently, though, 1,500 years was not enough to stop Gwaine’s romantic advances. Because at this point he approached Sophia and kissed her hand. “Ah! What a fair maiden. It is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Gwaine.” Sophia blushed at this, and laughed at this, but didn’t move to stop him. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to the dining area.” He then proceeded to pull Sophia down the hallway and into the kitchen, a cheshire cat grin planted on his face.

“Is he always like that or...” 

“Unfortunately.”

“Yes.”

“One of his most prominent qualities.”

“Every. Damn. Day.”

The assertion in all of their voices rang through the room, and it made the new guests laugh. “He’s a very interesting friend. Here, let me...” Merlin went to grab the pizza at this, both was shoved away by Tyler. 

“No, no.  _ You _ get to be selfish today. We’re your servants.”

Merlin held his hands up in mock defeat. “Okay, okay. Fine. Then go, peasants. Feed me your delicious food.” This earned a few scoffs and laughs from both sides, but the group did gradually move towards the kitchen.

So. Merlin discovered that pizza was a big hit. So big that now it was “food of the gods” and “this delicacy must be eaten everyday” good. And, he got some nice presents out of the deal. Some vinyls for his record player, a new shirt and some figurines for his office. All in all, Merlin didn’t expect to have this good of a time. But, Gwaine and Sophia were getting along famously and everybody was enjoying each other's company. He had to say, this was one of the best birthdays that he had ever had.

But, soon enough, the others were leaving, and Merlin was left to answer questions that he would rather not answer. So it was after boxing up the food, picking up the trash and putting the plates away (_thank_ _god_ for Gwen and her help) that Merlin was sat down and belted with questions.

“Is Sophia single?”

“Why were they calling you Colin? They know that your name  _ is _ Merlin, right?”

“What age you really? Because we all know you’re not 27.”

“How do I obtain more of this… pizza?”

“Why is everything so different?”

“Okay! Okay, guys! Calm down and let me speak.” Merlin had to practically shout to get them to be quiet. Typical. “Yes, Gwaine. Sophia is single. No! Don’t look so happy about it.” Gwaine’s excited grin fell off his face. “They called me Colin because I  _ am _ Colin. Colin Morgan to be exact.”

Arthur threw him a look that made him feel as if he was insane. He probably was. “You’re name is Merlin. Even you’re not stupid enough to forget your own name.”

He hummed. “I didn’t forget my name. But, nobody is named Merlin anymore, and after so many years, you have to change your name. Besides, nonne has called me Merlin in a very long time.” He was met with more confused looks. He really didn’t want to do this. He looked to Gwen, who gave him an encouraging smile, one that was not lost on the others. “You all died.”

“Yes, Merlin. We know this. What’s the point?”

Merlin’s voice grew immeasurably softer, and a million times sadder at the next words. “You all died, and I was left to wait. Wait for Arthur’s return. It’s a miracle you all came back, really.”

The lighthearted feeling in the room grew impossibly dim. The smiles and playful smirks and confused expressions slid into something more serious. More concerned. “Merlin, it’s okay. You can tell them.”

Elyan looked at her sister and spoke up the question that ran through all of their minds. “Tell us what?”

Arthur’s voice was soft. It was… full of caring and concern that was rarely ever shown out of his King. “Merlin, how long did you wait for me?”

“They-they were not lying when they said that it was my 27th birthday. It’s just...that they were off by a few years.” He wrung his hands together. The silence in the house had now grown deafening. “The year is 2019. And I’m well, I’m 1,527 years.”

The shocked and stunned looks on their faces were enough. “But, no. No. That’s not possible!”  _ I’m sorry, Arthur. _

He gave a sad smile. “I told you my name my druidic name is Emrys. What do you think it meant?”

It was Percival who answered Merlin’s question. “Immortal. It means immortal.”

Gwaine stood up first. “Why is it always you, my friend?” Gwaine then strode over and gave Merlin the biggest hug he could manage. Then Gwen joined. Percival. Elyan. Leon. And finally, Arthur. A weight lifted off his chest that he didn’t know had been there at all.

“You’ll never be alone again. I promise you that, Merlin.” And well, if he started to cry, no one mentioned anything.

That night, he was greeted by somebody he hadn’t seen in a long time. That night, Sister Sleep embraced him. That night, he was surrounded by his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the chapter? What do you think will happen next? Let me know in the comments!


	4. Laughter In A Tomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Where have you been?"
> 
> "It doesn't matter now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Back with a new chapter for this work! I wanted to have it uploaded a few days ago, so sorry that it's a little late, but this is my favorite chapter I've written so far, so I hope you like it. Enjoy!

It came into existence as the volcanoes spit and sputtered lava. It watched how the place called Earth broke apart and latched itself back together, a beautiful and ugly dance. It watched mountains with the tallest peaks form, canyons carved away by blocks of great frozen, solid, water. It watched how the waves bubbled and boiled, how they grew cooler and colder, deeper and deeper. It liked the Earth this way-a constant battle between all parts of nature fighting for dominance, breaking each other apart and putting each other back together. 

** **

It was there when strange creatures, almost as strange as himself, came onto land from the deep dark depths. They were interesting creatures, and he watched from afar as they took to land, as they built their shelters in the lands that destroyed and made, watched these...animals destroy and make. It followed the creatures, hunting, stalking them, watching them evolve and shapen. It didn’t mind these animals, but they were tolerable. They, in a sense, were like the Earth itself. They fought and created and killed and survived. Oh, It really liked it when they killed each other. How they would pounce on one another, ripping each other up and tearing each other to shreds.

** **

But then.

** **

But then some animals evolved even more-and they turned into this thing called humans. These… humans were not like the other animals on Earth. And It  _ hated _ humans. Humans took and built and destroyed on bigger scales than everything It had ever seen before and made the chaotic land of the Earth calm and dare It say...boring. Humans were greedy-they took and stole. They created things like fire. Like tools. Things they couldn’t do with just their hands. How pathetic. It got angrier and angrier with humans. It was then that humans started to build strange contraptions in which they would sleep, they would work, they would discuss, they would play. Humans built civilizations on lands not meant to be civilized. All the while, It got angrier and angrier. 

** **

It hated humans and It hated what humans had built. Then, It saw one alone one night. All alone, in the dark and the cold and the air made puffs around the man’s face and It got closer and closer, and It reached up, and It slashed the human's throat. The gurgling sound that the human made was one of the most beautiful things It had ever heard. The next time, It pushed one into a fire and watched her scream until her dying breath. It slashed and burned and drowned and pushed and enjoyed the way that humans died. Their deaths were much better than animals.

** **

Then, one day someone saw It.

** **

The man had screamed at him, running away toward the crowd of humans shouting at the other end of the grassy field. The human man screamed, and stumbled, and fell, and got back up and repeated the cycle. It watched in curious fascination, until the man pointed back at It and yelled. 

** **

“Monster!” The other humans shouted it too. The name brought something to his form, something pleasurable-an excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time. It liked that name. 

** **

So It became Monster.

** **

Monster.

** **

Monster.

** **

Monster.

** **

Monster tastes good on his tongue. Monster tasted like the blood of humans and Monster sounded like their screams. Monster did not kill small humans cowardly in the dark, Monster burned down cities and slaughtered armies. Monster was the was name feared in the human’s stories. The one that would kill and maim and hurt and destroyed. Like what those  _ humans _ had done to the Earth.

** **

Monster was the one that ate their flesh and slept on their bones.

** **

Monster was called many things by many humans in many languages over many years. But, there was one that Monster liked very much. Something darker and even more sinister than Monster, because if the humans were good at one thing, it was naming nightmares. So, Monster became Pengguna Roh. The Consumer of Souls. The Eater of light. ** **   
** **

And, oh, how Pengguna Roh liked his name.

* * *

They had been in this future land for two days now. Two days of confusion, of laughs, of heartbreak. He’s barely had the time of day to do anything, let alone talk to Merlin. And, oh, does he think there are some things they need to talk about. Lots of things they need to talk about. Too many things.

But these past two days had all been a bit too much of a blur, like hiding a horse with great speed, like the heat of a battle. Like being stabbed.

It had felt like…  _ he had only closed his eyes a mere second ago, how had he gotten so far? He could feel the log behind him, the cool night air mixed with the brightly glowing fire. He could feel the wound in his side. The deep, terrible, burning sensation. The way that whenever he so much as took a breath left him in agony. It felt like being stabbed in the back by a friend.  _

_ And he was, wasn’t he? It may have been his stomach the blade went through, but he remembered when Mordred ran off. How the boy he had saved many years ago, the one that had such hope in his eyes, the one that turned into one of Arthur’s most trusted knights, stood next to Morgana, and called for death upon his friends. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. But, then, maybe it was Merlin. Merlin had been gone from the battle. His best friend had left him for an unknown, unfathomable reason. And Merlin had always been his good luck charm.  _

_ Unless… “Merlin.” He was here, and he was coming over, and oh god, he was here, and maybe the wound hurt a little less when he saw his friend’s form and he was actually here, his best friend didn’t leave him, his best friend didn’t abandon him and for a moment, he was so happy. Then Merlin leaned over him, and he looked at his friend, the worry in etched on his face like he had never seen it before. There was no light in his eyes. None of that infuriating joyfulness that he loved so much about his friend. That sparkle in his eyes that he always had whenever they talked. All that made Merlin, Merlin was gone. _

_ Now his friend only looked… tired. Sad. Deeply, horribly sad. It made that great smile of his so crooked. His wound hurt a little more.  _

_ “How are you feeling?” He tried, really tried to move, to reassure his friend he was okay, that it was going to be okay, but all he managed to do was cry out in pain, and he hated himself for it. For worrying his friend like that. “Easy.” He felt Merlin’s hand on his shoulder, guiding him to a more comfortable position. “Lie back. Lie back.” _

_ Merlin was here, and Merlin was okay, and Merlin was helping him, but Merlin had been gone and he didn’t want him to hurt anymore, but he felt like he deserved some answers and- “Where-where have you been?” He shut his eyes in response to the pain, and felt Merlin grip his arm a little more tightly.  _

_ “It doesn’t matter now.” _

_ The pain, it was white hot and burning and worse than any other injury he had ever had in his entire life, worse than all his other injuries combined. “Oh! My si-my side.” He stuttered over his words, and if it had been any other time, he thinks they would have laughed. This was not any other time. _

_ Merlin’s hand, still gripped firmly on his arm, shakes a little. He looks down at his side, looks down at the wound. “You’re bleeding.” _

_ “That’s all right, I thought I was dying.” To all the heavens above, he was beyond thankful that he hadn’t just died. He had only just seen Merlin, afterall. They still had so much time left. At least, he hoped. _

_ “I’m sorry. I thought I defied the prophecy.” There’s tears in Merlin’s eyes and he wishes desperately he had the strength to wipe them away. “I thought I was in time.” _

_ He rolls his eyes in a desperate attempt at normalcy, trying to make sense of Merlin’s words. “What are you talking about?” _

_ “I defeated the dragon. The Saxons-and yet I knew it was Mordred I must stop.” _

_ Dear lord, if this was Merlin’s attempt at humor, then he was seriously failing. He chuckled at his friend. “The person who defeated them, was the sorcerer.” He patted Merlin on the shoulder. _

_ “It was me.” _

_ No. Please no. “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin.” The tears on his face said otherwise. “This is stupid. Wh-why would you say that?” _

_ “I’m-” Merlin choked up on his words, and a dread in his stomach deeper and more painful than the wound would ever be formed. Merlin pointed to himself. “I’m the sorcerer. I have magic.” And his whole world crumbled. Everything made absolute perfect sense and complete and utter nonsense. The best friend he had ever had was a sorcerer. He used magic and he was evil because magic was evil, but he couldn’t be evil because it was Merlin and Merlin was always so kind and sweet and caring and but, magic was evil, but Merlin couldn’t be evil, he didn’t have an evil bone in his body, he saved spiders, for crying out loud and he thought this was the worst pain he had ever felt in his life. “And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you.” _

_ “Merlin, you’re not a sorcerer. I would know.” He nodded his head in reassurance to himself and Merlin. He would know, wouldn’t he? But... he didn’t know, did he?  _

_ “Look...here.”  _

_ Then Merlin turns to the fire and he says a spell and oh god, he really does have magic, and then a dragon is flying from the sparks of the flames and he doesn't know what to think anymore and sot he does the one thing he can think to do. “Leave me.” _

_ “Arthur.” _

_ “Don’t- Just- you heard. Just...” Merlin rises up slowly from the ground, and he has to turn away to not see the heartbroken look on his friend’s face. He wishes he wasn’t the one to put it there.  _

_ He doesn’t talk to Merlin the rest of the night.  _

_ He only wishes he had. _

* * *

They sleep in the large living room again, still not comfortable with the “we’re in fifteen-hundred years in the future” situation, and he thinks that nobody will be able to sleep on their own, by themselves, in their own rooms, let alone with each other in the same room. Merlin has brought up so many questions, and very little in answers.

He doesn’t sleep. He lays there and thinks and frowns and remembers and hurts, but he does not sleep. Sleep has evaded him, unlike the others, who have successfully avoided consciousness-even when they toss and turn in the late night, but sleep, nonetheless. It isn’t until the clock, that’s what Merlin said they were, strikes the one that he sees a faint light come on from beneath the kitchen door. He hears shuffling and a small clatter.

A door slides open, and a door slides shut, and then the house is quiet once again.

He peels the blanket off of himself, making sure not to disturb Guinevere. She sighs and shifts, and he stiffens from his spot on the edge of the bed, before she rolls back over, and he relaxes once again. He weaves himself around the others as they sleep, strewn about on the floor and couches, cracking the door as quietly as he can and slipping through into the kitchen, before closing the door once again with a quiet ‘click’.

The light assaults his eyes, having acclimated to the darkness, and he has to blink them a few times to adjust. He looks about the kitchen, not seeing his friend, before remembering the slight slide of the door earlier, so he puts on his boots and jacket that he had abandoned in the kitchen, before slipping outside.

Arthur finds Merlin on the deck-a light jacket and frayed gloves as the only protection against the cold winter chill. His lanky figure leans on the railing, a slight wind ruffling his hair. Arthur sees his breath come out in puffs, and swipes at them, before moving to put his hands in the so called ‘jeans’ his friend had bought him, in a weak attempt to stave off the cold.

He approaches his friend, copying his actions and leaning forward on the railings overlooking his backyard. The light shining through from the kitchen gives them long shadows that stretch into the darkness, covering up some of the fresh snow. Merlin’s eyes flick to the side, acknowledging him, before they turn back to stare out into the woods.

He also takes to looking out past the backyard and into the woods, taking in the powdery snow covering the branches, the tracks from small woodland creatures. He takes in the cobblestone path just to the right of the house, the soft glow from the lamps leading down the winding path. Arthur takes his hands out of his pocket, folding them before hanging them out over the railing. “It’s cold out here, you know. You should come back inside. Especially since you were, oh, I don’t know, complaining about it only yesterday.” A ghost of a smile graces Merlin’s lips, but he otherwise stays quiet, and makes no move to retreat to the warmth of the house.

It’s only after the quiet has stretched on for what seems like  _ ages _ if Arthur’s being honest, of course, he’s shivering and cold too, so maybe that was it-meaning it was entirely probable that it was only a few minutes before Merlin spoke. “I missed you, Arthur.” There’s a horrible pain in his voice when he speaks, and Arthur thinks he understands. He hopes he does.

“Do you ever think about tho-those last few days?” Arthur catches the tightening of his fist, one of his habits he had whenever he was upset or stressed but didn’t want to show it. He guesses some things haven't changed over the past fifteen hundred years. 

Merlin finally turns to look at his friend, and although his face is almost expressionless, the pain swimming in his eyes is clear to see. “Everyday. I could never forget.” A sad smile graces his lips. “I have fought in wars. I have starved in famine and wasted away during plagues. I have seen empires thrive and I have seen them crumble. I have traveled around the world, I have seen new places and made friends. I’ve loved and hated and everything in between.” His eyes flicker over Arthur’s shoulder to the path that leads down to The Lake of Avalon. “I have done many things, seen many people. But I have also forgotten. I may have fought in wars, but I don’t remember why. I may have seen empires rise and fall, but I don't remember when. I may have had friends and families, but I don’t remember what they look like. What they loved and what they hated. I may be immortal, but I am also human, and I forget. But you Arthur. I never forgot you.” 

Arthur blinked back the tears in his eyes, stunned by the sincerity in his voice. He found he had no words that could accurately express what Merlin had just said, so he went for the one thing between them that never failed. “I would hope so, Merlin. After all, I am the king. Or former king. Or… whatever. Either way, you could never forget such a great man.” Merlin blinked back at him. Then he laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed and Arthur laughed and it echoed through the night and if Merlin or Arthur’s laugh turned a little hysterical, well, there was no one there to point it out anyways.

“So, fifteen hundred years?”

Merlin wiped the tears at the edges of his eyes, before focusing on Arthur once again. “Fifteen hundred years.”

“Anything interesting happen?”

Merlin hummed. “Not really.” Though, a smile creeped up his face. “Want to go inside? I can show you how to play some card games I learned when I was Vegas. We can wipe the others right off their feet.”

Arthur didn’t know what Vegas was, but either way he felt a grin slowly creep up his face and he moved towards the door. “Oh, please show me your tricks.” He walked towards the door, intent to get inside and warm back up, before he noticed that Merlin had not followed him. “Merlin?”

His friend was looking up into the night sky, his bright smile replaced by a sad frown. “Where have you been, Arthur?” Arthur doesn't think he was meant to hear it, Merlin’s voice barely carrying on the breeze, his eyes never leaving the softly glowing moon.

“It doesn't matter now.”

Merlin’s gaze snapped to him. “No, I suppose it doesn't.” Then, Merlin turned on his heel, following Arthur inside. They didn’t fall asleep until the sun had passed the treetops, side by side, as they were supposed to be.

* * *

Gwen walked into the kitchen, looking for her missing husband and her best friend.

“Find him?” Gwaine peered out into the kitchen, and Gwen shook her head. “He wasn’t in the hallway.”

“Merlin wasn’t in his room either.” Percival walked in from the hallway leading off from the kitchen, Elyan close behind. She looked at her brother with a questioning gaze. He responded with a shrug.

“Found them!” Gwen whipped her head at Leon’s voice and followed the sound of his voice to the dining room, the other Knights close behind. There Leon stood, peering into the doorway, a small smile on his face. Gwen looked in herself, and found quite a sweet and slightly silly scene before her.

A light shone from the chandelier, even though the sun had already come up. A few glasses were placed in odd spots about the room and at the other end of the table were strange looking cards strewn about. But that was not the thing about the room that had caught her attention the most. There was Merlin and Arthur, sitting across from one another, heads on the table. Utterly and soundly asleep.

Gwaine cleared his throat. “Should we...”

“No,” Gwen smiled to herself, shutting off the overhead light and softly closing the door behind her, “let them sleep.”

* * *

Merlin really, honestly, absolutely loved coffee. Which is why in the hour he had been up, he had already drank three cups of it. Hey, he was immortal. If he wanted to drink buckets full of coffee everyday, then nobody was going to stop him.

That being said, he was now out of coffee. He was very sad about this fact, even if it was the afternoon and he’d already drank half of the pot. He'd have to go out later and buy some more. A world without coffee was… he didn’t even know how he had survived without it. And boy, did Merlin need all the caffeine he could get right now.

Today, he promised his friends a tour of his home.  _ All  _ of his home. It had been okay at first, he showed them around his house, pointing out some of his favorite rooms like the library, or his greenhouse or the pool. It had been nice to show them around something he had worked so hard on for so long. He showed them their rooms and he showed them paintings he had made and his friends had made and everything was okay for awhile. All he had to do was avoid showing the dreaded basement. He was doing so well so far, he thought he might get off the hook on showing it. 

Merlin had, for all purposes, shown his friends everything. He said as much when they landed back in the living room. “So that’s it!” He clapped his hands together in finality, turning back around to face the group. “All done. I’ve shown you everything. Nope! No more.” Thinking on it, Merlin thought that sounded  _ very _ suspicious, but all he could think about was that stupid basement with all his stupid stuff and his mind had been distracted all day and he barely got any sleep and the sleep he did get was on a  _ table _ -a horribly stiff uncomfortable  _ table _ , and-

And he almost got away with it too, if it weren't for those meddling Knights and Queen. Or maybe Merlin was just a  _ really _ bad liar, which was entirely possible. He might’ve said some of that out loud as well. 

“Merlin!”

Merlin whipped his head around at the sound of Arthur’s voice. “Yeah?”

“What are you hiding?” 

Merlin folded his hands behind himself and rocked back on his heels. “Nothing!  _ Nothing _ , Sire. It’s nothing important.” He shot a grin to his friends, but by the looks he was receiving, it was obviously not very convincing. Arthur stepped closer. Merlin stepped back and flicked his eyes towards the hidden door. Arthur took another step forward and Merlin took another step back. Arthur’s eyes flicked over to the spot where Merlin was looking and then back at his friend.

“No more secrets, Merlin.” Merlin closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  _ No more secrets _ . Not now, not forever. He was done keeping secrets. “Merlin.”

Merlin exhaled and looked at Arthur, looked deep at him, saw the hurt and worry swimming around in his eyes, crashing up against the brilliant shining blue. Merlin looked right at Arthur and sighed. “No more secrets.” Arthur nodded at him, and Merlin turned to where the hidden door was.

Waving his hand, the symbols appeared, and the large doors appeared.“ Tólýsednes se eorðweard. ” The doors slowly creaked upon the finishing of the spell and the torches lit themselves down the stone stairway. A blast of cool air rushed past the group, and a few shivered in response.

“What does that mean?”

Merlin turned towards Elyan peering down the stairway. “In layman’s terms: Open the guards. I have a bunch of protection on my basement, don’t want anybody to get in.”

“Why?”

“Because of things?” Merlin’s voice raised a few pitches at this and he cringed at the sound of it. He was  _ supposed _ to be good at lying. He  _ was _ good at lying. What was going on?

Arthur huffed. “That’s not a reason, Merlin.”

“Sure it is! Because of things.” Arthur gave him an exasperated look. Merlin threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “Fine! Fine. Let’s just-let’s just go.”

“No no no,  _ what  _ things?” Gwaine looked at his friend.

Merlin was about to respond when… “Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it, Gwaine.” Merlin snapped his mouth shut.

“You don’t want to know what super special magic stuff Merlin is hiding down there?”

“Well yeah but...”

“But what?”

“Gwaine...” Merlin tuned the rest of the conversation out. He rolled his eyes one more time, for good measure, before walking over to the stone stairs.

Gwen followed first, also having lost interest in the conversation, the rest of the group petering in behind them, still arguing over whatever it was they were arguing about. They kept descending deeper and deeper into the ground, into the secrets of Merlin’s long life-ones that he had guarded from everyone now coming out into the open. They make it to the bottom of the stairs, they make to the entrance and Merlin’s secrets are all about to come out in the open and  _ oh god  _ and-

-and the whole hall, the whole great hall is completely and entirely destroyed. Glass is spread on the ground in shards, hanging from cases in jagged broken pieces sharp enough to cut someone from simply looking at it, and the painting of Gwen and Arthur is slashed- parts of Gwen’s smiling face missing and Arthur’s head is gone-their crowns are missing-just  _ gone _ - _ utterly gone- _ the swords his friends once wielded smashed to bits and scattered throughout the room, Excalibur in two horribly ugly pieces-and the pages of his most favorite magic books are ripped out and torn to shreds and everything he’s known and loved about Camelot is gone and he turns to his friends because he can’t believe what he is seeing and it can’t be possible-

His friends are gaping at the sights around him and he thinks somebody is saying something, but it rings in his ears, and he can’t make out the words, they all sound garbled. Garbled and mixed and turned around-like Merlin is. Then-then something more impossible-more horrible happens. All he does to cause it is blink, just  _ fucking _ blink-and then he looks and Arthur’s face is being ripped right off, torn to shreds just like that horrible painting and Gwen is bleeding out of her eyes and Gwaine is melting,  _ actually melting _ and Leon and Percival’s head are twisted at a cruel angle, smiles playing off of their broken faces and Elyan eyes just sink into themselves and it’s just gaping black holes-and he backs up, backs up and falls and cuts his hand on the glass, cuts his hand on the jagged sharp broken pieces of glass, and he crawls backwords, and his friends,  _ no, not my friends, my friends don’t look like that-they don’t look all broken and wrong and crooked and twisted and demented _ , his friends advance towards him-move with small, broken walks.

He scoots back more, pushing his hands onto the cold, hard stone, stone filled to the brim with pieces of all his memories. He watches as the blood smears across the floor from the cut in his hand as he scoots back-how it shines a dark, dark red, and he barely feels the pain of it-the sting that surrounds it-he just keeps moving backwards and his friends keep moving closer, and Gwen looks at him and frowns-but her eyes are red with blood-redder than Ryan’s blood on the side of that harsh mountain when the wolves teared into him-redder than the blood that spilled out of Jack’s head as he was shot by that Nazi-as his whole squad was ripped up on that beach-

And it fills up her whole eyes-and that frown doesn’t look right-it looks like it’s being puppeteered-pulled on by invisible strings and it looks so  _ fake _ and Gwen was never  _ fake _ she was always so genuine, that is was  _ so  _ not Gwen, not his Gwen that looked so broken and horrifying. And Arthur.

Oh, he couldn’t even glance at Arthur for more than a second, couldn’t bear to look at his friends anyone more. So, he squeezes his eyes shut, doesn’t notice when his back hits the wall, doesn’t notice how he curled in on himself. “Merlin?” But, he does notice how his heart shatters.

His heart just shatters right there and then-breaks into tiny, impossibly heavy pieces that sink like stones down into the deep deep ocean-they sink under the waves into the current-into the cold, dark deep abyss, and they keep sinking all the way down down  _ down- _ and these pieces thud heavily onto the bottom of the sea and  _ Merlin _ is sinking too, down down down-he doesn’t even feel when his breath hitches-when the tears start coming down his face.

Merlin finds he can’t breath. He doesn’t seem to care. The lights flicker out of the room in one ‘swoosh’ plunging the group into darkness. Merlin’s lungs cheat themselves out of precious oxygen once again, betraying his body and panicking his already panicked mind. The shuffling and patter of feet stop abruptly, and the only sound to echo through the destroyed cavern is Merlin’s quickened breaths-his stuttering intake of air.

Then. Then the screams start. They come from the people he loves most in the world, disembodied but with a familiar tinge, and it sends shivers up his spine. Chills him to the core. It sends a spike of pain through his head, throbbing and pitiful-like a bad migraine that would leave him incapacitated for the better part of a few days. Ones that would leave him in such a miserable state that all he could do was lay in a darkened room and hope and pray that the pain in his head would soon stop.

His head hurts. His hands shake. The screaming increases in it’s pitch. He can’t breathe. His hands shake more. Tears run down his face. The screams get louder. His hands clamp over his ears. He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter. He can’t breath.  _ He can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe… _

The screams stop. The room is plunged into an unnerving stillness. Lights woosh back on with a quiet wind, the flames swinging in it's breeze. Merlin’s haggard sharp breaths are the only sounds echoing through the large area once again. Merlin runs his hands through his hair, forgetting about the blood that soaks through his right. 

It takes him more time than it should to regain his breath.

Then. Then he opens his eyes. His opens his eyes and looks for his friends-the ones that not broken, not those  _ not-friends _ that tortured him with their screams, that made his head hurt with a pain unimaginable, that made him want to rip out his own  _ goddamn eyes _ -

There. There on the wall. There on the wall is blood, dripping and hanging and creeping down through the stones, little ‘plops’ as the red substance hits the floor. The red that is darker that Ryan’s blood. The red that is darker than the hole through Jack’s head, through the lifeless eyes of his squad. Red that curved up and down and around, forming and shaping into words. Forming and shaping into words that made Merlin almost have another panic attack. Because there, right there in the darkest and most cruel red he had ever seen is four ominous words.

Four words that ring through his mind. Four words that make him clamp down on his broken jagged cut, squeeze his hands into a fist so tight that he doesn’t know if the blood trailing down the side of his hand is that of his cut or that of his nails digging into his palms. 

Merlin stands on shaky legs, uses his good hand to hold himself up against the wall. He walks over, shuffles over, stumbles over, to the words on the wall. The red words. His ears ring a little louder.

_ It’s only just begun _

His ears ring louder louder louder. A tear falls down his cheek. His head stings something dreadful and his hand burns. “Merlin!” the ringing gets louder and louder and louder. He thought he heard something, but it sounds far away. Far away, at the end of a long tunnel filled to the brim with murky, dirty water. “Helloooo. Merlin!” It’s so far away and his head hurts and his hand hurts and the ringing keeps getting louder and his friends are gone and everything hurts and  _ oh god _ ...

“Merlin!” A hand touches his shoulder. The sound returns to his ears all in one rush, flooding his mind, washing out the deafening ring. His head doesn’t hurt anymore, doesn’t stab and sting and prod behind his eyelids.

Merlin blinks, and the basement is gone. The basement is gone and Arthur is there, and he’s giving Merlin a look between amusement and worry, although one is more well hidden than the other. Arthur is  _ there _ and so is Gwen and Gwaine and Percival and Elyan and Leon and none of them are dead and none of them are dying and none of them are  _ red red red  _ and- “Whatever is going on in that brain of yours?”

Merlin blinks at him. He frowns. He peers over at his friends, some who are looking away with amused smiles. He doesn’t understand what’s so funny about what just happened. He blinks back at Arthur, confusion marring his face. “What?” Arthur hits him upside the head and Merlin still doesn’t understand what is going on.

“Honestly, Merlin. Even you can’t be that much of an idiot. What, I talk to the others for two minutes and you’re already zoning out? Seriously, where did you go in that funny little mind of yours? I’ve been calling your name for the past five minutes!” Elyan turns away and tries to stifle his laughter, but Gwaine had no such qualms. Merlin blinked again as the whole room erupted in laughter, still  _ very _ unsure as to what was going on. “Now, are you going to show us your ‘magical basement of secrets’, or do we have to show ourselves down?”

Now, Merlin  _ knows _ something is up. “But weren’t we just...” he trailed off, not knowing how to finish his sentence. 

“Weren’t we just what, Merlin?”

Merlin peers over Arthur’s shoulder once again, notices that no one seems traumatized. Or hurt. Or shocked. As a matter of fact, they all seem perfectly fine. “Nevermind.” He grins back at them, hides and buries down the eerie experience deep within his mind, locks it up and throws away the key. “Must’ve just spaced out. Happens when I don’t have much sleep. Or when somebody is being incredibly boring”

“ _ I’m _ boring? I highly doubt that. After all, you are the old man here, Merlin.”

Merlin scoffed, relaxing at the normalness of the conversation. “Please, I’m only twenty-seven.”

“ _ One thousand, five-hundred and twenty-seven _ , you mean.”

Merlin waved his hand in dismissal. “Age is a relative concept.” He laughed at the eye roll sent his way, but could see the smile on Arthur’s face. He had missed making Arthur smile. Arthur gestured to the door, waiting for Merlin to show him down to, as he said, his “magical basement of secrets”. But, Gwaine had already beat him to it. He barged passed the group and practically sprinted down the stairs shouting out nonsensical words as he went.

Elyan looked at Percival and shrugged. Percival gave a nod, and then they both sprinted off after Gwaine, laughing all the while. Leon sighed, looking between Arthur and the stairs, debating on if he should wait or not. His debate lasted all of five seconds though, before he too, followed his friends down the stairs. Arthur shook his head, exasperated and looked to his wife. “Shall we go before they get into too much trouble?” 

Gwen hooked her arm with her husband’s and turned to face Merlin. “C’mon then, Merlin. I’m sure you don’t want Gwaine messing with all of your stuff.”

Merlin shuddered at the thought of Gwaine and well, all the knights, but really more specifically Gwaine, getting into all of his magic stuff. “Dear god, no.” Gwen’s laugh echoed through the room, as her and Arthur disappeared down the stone staircase. Merlin paused at the top of the steps, trying to erase the images from his mind. Then, he put on his best smile, and followed his friends into the depths below. 

Merlin ignored the sting, as if it had been cut on glass, radiating from his right hand.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you liked the chapter, and I'm going to try to have another one up by Thanksgiving, just to let you know. Have a wonderful everybody! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Language Guide:  
tólýsednes se eorðweard = Release the guards
> 
> Ge ablinnan be æghwa dæg = The end of all days
> 
> Pengguna Roh = Consumer of Souls (roughly speaking)
> 
> Well, I hope you liked it. I'm going to try my hardest to upload once a week, but it may take closer to two weeks to upload. This is because I'm a really busy person and have to find time between all my other activities. Please let me know what you think about it in the comments below, and what you think might happen next! Until next, my buddy pals :)


End file.
